MEMOIR 1: YESTERDAY - Anna Bailey
MEMOIR 2: LOVE FROM DILINI, XOXO - Dilini Mendis
MEMOIR 3: MAZE OF A THOUSAND MILES - Andrea Ho
MEMOIR 4: AND BABY MAKES FOUR - Jennifer Coltton
MEMOIR 5: ANATOMICAL MEMORIES - Jacob Hewitt
MEMOIR 6: LOCUSTS - Richard Shepherd

I'd like to tell you about a friend of mine. I'm told that you only get three or four true friends in a lifetime, but I've already found at least one of my quota. I can tell her anything and she's one of very few people who I would actually trust with my life. Despite all this, when I first met her and her friends five years ago, at our Year 6 orientation day, I hated them. I think it was probably simply because they were too different. They were loud, bitchy and incredibly coarse, every second word being a swearword. No-one's ever shocked me that much since, I'd literally never seen anything like it. Until then I'd lived a quite sheltered life, never having even dreamt that girls my age could actually be like that. They also scared me a bit, being so sure of themselves, swanning around as if they owned the place. They were from a whole different world, but later by chance I actually met them properly.

In our science classroom last year there were four seats at each of the groups of tables and five people from our group in the class. To start with we tried adding another chair on at the end of the desks, but the teacher wouldn't have that, saying that one of us would simply have to sit somewhere else. So I, having arrived last, was the one they nominated to move. Because they were closest and had a spare seat, I ended up sitting with Louise and two friends of hers. Every lesson I'd have to sit there, there was nothing I could do to get out of it. These people weren't my friends, they weren't even friends of my friends, and they were still loud and scary. In short, I hated it and dreaded science classes.

Gradually, however, I started to come out of myself more. Soon I was actually talking to them, and somehow I slowly overcame my prejudice and got to know them. Eventually I was not only sitting there in science by choice but also sitting with them in other classes. I managed not only to cope with them but also become close friends with them, Louise in particular. I still sat with my other friends at lunchtimes. I don't think my absence in class was really missed that much, me sitting there in science actually kept the other four quite happy, as it meant that none of them had to sit with people who they looked down on and thought weren't nice enough.

Looking back on it all I can see that before I knew my new friends, that was my problem. They'd never had a problem with me; on the contrary, since high school they'd always been friendly enough. The problem lay with me in the fact that, like about half of my year, I thought I was superior to them. I'm not. Of course I'm not, and never have been. However, I can see now that I thought then that I was. The way I treated them in the beginning would be more than enough reason for them to have hated me, but they never did.

Unfortunately this year I'm not in Louise's class. Although I've drifted from the others Louise and I have stayed close, become closer even. I'm very lucky to have her as a friend. Under the loud, rough front that most people see is the most wonderfully gentle, loving person and an incredibly devoted friend. She always makes sure that she's there when I need her and in return I try to make sure that I'm there for her. I could never forgive myself if I let her down, only her problems are so much bigger than those that I'm used to. It might seem like the end of the world if you've only got 75% on a test or you embarrassed yourself in front of the whole class, but compared to hers my problems are incredibly petty.

The thing that I can't really understand is that she's somehow convinced herself that her problems aren't really that bad. It doesn't matter that the person she loved the most in the world has died and she doesn't even remember him, that her sister and aunt have both come worryingly close to death, that she fights constantly with the relatives that she loves so much, especially her mother. Forget the fact that she's being constantly betrayed by both family and friends, she still tells herself, and me, that she's got it good. I suppose it's how she manages to survive it all.

But yesterday it all got on top of her, one too many things had happened and she suddenly couldn't stand it any more. So she told me a lot of things that she'd never told anyone. It makes me happy to know that she trusts me that much, but that's far outweighed by the burden of what it was that she trusted me with. She trusted me with knowledge that shocked and upset me, as well as making me unbelievably angry. She's done nothing to deserve any of this. No-one ever possibly could, but she's one of my best friends and bad things aren't supposed to happen to people you know. It's the most frustrating feeling, knowing that there's nothing I can do to make any of it better.

Knowing her has taught me so much. To start with, I've learnt never to judge people, because what you see on the surface is often very different from what's hidden underneath if you bother to look. Because of this, I've met a lot of people who otherwise I would have just snobbishly ignored. Even though when I first met her and her friends I would rather have died than have anything to do with 'people like that', I've found that they're the most wonderful fun to be around. It's also shown me a whole separate side of life. I was incredibly protected and naive, I probably still am relatively. But I assumed that just because I and everyone I knew had happy, safe lives, everybody did.

I only wish I could stop her from being hurt again, she's already been hurt more and deeper than anyone should be ever. But it's made her vulnerable, it seems inevitable that she's still got a lot of hurt to go. Sometimes I'm incredibly afraid because I know that, for her, suicide would be a real option. I've tried to tell her that it's not worth it, but I know that if she was ever seriously considering it, my desperate advice would count for nothing against a genuine way out. I don't like thinking about the idea of ever losing her, but that it could be permanent or any time really frightens me, because as her friend, I love her a hell of a lot.

TOP 

Wednesday 16th August, 1996

Dear Amma,

Preparations have already begun for camp. We'll arrive at Sovereign Hill on Monday 9th September and return Wednesday 11th. I think Sovereign Hill is a lovely place for my first school camp. We had to write down who we would like to share our bunk rooms with. I put down my best friends.

People are now very excited. There are people with older sisters who've gone on this camp and know what sorts of things to buy and how to get their money's worth with confectionery. There are people like me, who've never been away from their family more than a day, and never camped.

The teachers are excited, too. Miss Scott and Mrs White only joined Tintern this year; they've never been to Sovereign Hill on a school camp. They'll be more fun than teachers who are old hands and can say, "Did it, done it, liked it". Ours will share the excitement with us. I can't wait till camp. I'm getting more excited each day!

Love from Dilini XOXO

 

Friday 6th September, 1996

Dear Dr Aunty,

For camp, I'm in a day group with Mrs Vehoeve as our leader. We found out what our homework is for night one of the camp. We must pretend we're someone of the 1700s attending Mam and Sir's school. We must write a letter to the teachers to say where we come from, why we came to Australia and what our parents' jobs are.

In our suitcases we should pack clothes to keep us VERY warm because it's freezing in Sovereign Hill now. Tomorrow's my birthday. I'm taking a birthday cake on Monday to eat. I mustn't forget to take my camera. I want to make this one of my most memorable trips. Only three more days to go!

Love from Dilini XOXO

 

Monday 9th September, 1996

Dear Mummy and Daddy,

I'm on the bus seated next to Kara. I can't believe camp has started. It's too good to be true.

An hour ago we stopped at a Wattle Park. It was great to stretch our legs. We ate our snacks and my friends and I found a piece of play equipment that nobody had discovered. It didn't look good at first, just a long metal sort of rope held in place by two posts. It jingled and jangled in the wind. We balanced on it. It was very difficult, but we managed to grasp the concept of how to balance on it. Then we were asked to board the bus. Some people have started their homework. I'll do mine later. I'd much rather write this letter.

The bus is full of friendly chatter. At least nobody has started singing yet. We almost always sing on bus trips, or else we chant something and end up with headaches.

We've just passed a sign saying 'Ballarat'. There's now a sense of major excitement in the bus. Everyone's talking rapidly to their seat-mate. All thoughts of homework have been swept away. We've just passed Pizza Hut where we're dining tonight.

What's this we are pulling into? A driveway surrounded by pine trees with a sign saying 'Sovereign Hill Cabins'. Now camp's REALLY started!

Love from Dilini XOXO

 

Monday 9th September, 1996

Dear Shalini,

When we entered Sovereign Hill, a light rain had begun to fall. The rain didn't last long enough to ruin our plans for the day, but got our suitcases and sleeping bags wet.

I'm sleeping in Room 13. We've organised our sleeping arrangement. There are six bunk beds, one wardrobe and shelves to put our suitcases in. I'm sleeping on a top bunk, over Christina.

When we'd finished the lunches we'd brought we got into our day's groups and went to the museum. At the museum we looked at uniforms miners wore, tools they used and documents. The section that I liked best was the hands-on section. We read about how people find the gold with a gold detector, and they had one on display. People put coins under it to get it to beep. Mrs Vehoeve placed her hand under it and it beeped. We looked at her in surprise. Was she made of gold? No! She had her wedding ring on!

There was a board with a map of Ballarat on it. At the bottom was a button and, when pressed, a little light showed on the map where gold had been found. There were many lights. I'm already enjoying myself!

Love from Dilini XOXO

 

Monday 9th September, 1996

Dear Lucy,

Today at camp we had to fill out a questionnaire about Sovereign Hill. Our first stop was where a big grey horse was walking in circles with a wooden plank attached to his back. The plank was attached to an old fashioned wooden water circulator. Every circle that he distanced meant more water circulating.

We then visited a tent made of flimsy white sheets and held up merely by wooden logs. It would have been very cold for the miners. Outside were some sticks for a fire to cook and boil a billy.

We went to the famous Sovereign Hill river that has gold in it. We didn't look for gold but studied an old wooden machine that helped find gold.

Later, we visited a house of the 1700s. It was smaller than houses now and children didn't have many toys at all. We heard that wallpaper on walls in the 1700s symbolised wealth!

We also visited a house where a poorer family lived. In the yard were chickens, a cow shed and strawberries. After the questionnaire it was time to go back to the warm, cosy bunk rooms for homework. I wrote a letter pretending that I was Greek and the daughter of the man who tripped over a huge nugget of gold, I live in luxury. Ahhh!

Love from Dilini XOXO

 

Monday 9th September, 1996

Dear Sonali,

I'm writing this before we go to the stable for games. Today we had room inspection. Mr Burke was the Inspector and he was very strict. He was pleased about our neatly rolled up sleeping bags on the end of our beds, but he said that our shelves and shoes weren't neat. I think that was fair, but the dust check wasn't! Mr Burke hadn't even mentioned it before. "But Mr Burke, we thought the people before us had cleaned the window sill!" Mr Burke didn't budge. We quickly tidied up.

Ravenously, we piled onto the bus and George, our bus driver, drove us to Pizza Hut. On this trip we decided to sing 'The song that never ends' and the teachers went mad. Mr Burke said that George had sensitive ears and hadn't been to the doctor's lately so would we mind being quiet? We knew that was a fib, but we kept quiet.

At Pizza Hut Kara and I sat down and talked. It took a long time for our food because the school before us ran late. For dinner we had the 'works'! With full tummies we drove home and were allowed to sing our song for two minutes! Now we're to go to the stable for the games that we're to play. That sounds exciting. Missing you!

Love from Dilini XOXO

 

Tuesday 10th September, 1996

Dear Amma,

Yesterday night I had fun at the stables playing games with Mrs White. We played a game where you tied a balloon attached to string onto your ankle. When Mrs White said, "GO" you had to try to pop other people's balloons, but not get your own popped. It was amusing to watch and at the end everyone was grinning.

Then we divided into relay teams. Each team had to pass the orange to the other person &endash; with their neck! Everyone was laughing so it was harder to pass and we all ended up sticky and happy. Then our group swapped to go on a scenery walk with Miss Scott and Mr Burke.

When we'd finished we had a shower and went back down to the stables. Greeted by tables of lovely supper cakes, slices and sweets, we quickly dug in!

Sleepily we walked back to bed. Then the talking began. We talked for ages and forgot about being sleepy &endash; this was what camp was all about. Miss Scott and Mrs White were on the warpath with us and had to come into our room many times. The last straw was when Sophie laughed her weird laugh and only stopped when she saw Mrs White near her bunk with her hands on her hips. A few minutes later, not even a whisper could be heard from Room 13!

Love from Dilini XOXO

 

Tuesday 10th September, 1996

Dear Dr Aunty,

Today I awoke at 6.00 am! We talked about Kate who'd sleep-murmured. Excitedly we then talked about school. We were to go to an old fashioned 1700s type school and couldn't wait.

After we'd changed, we walked to the breakfast bar. It was a Do-It-Yourself restaurant and all we didn't do was to make the food! We took down chairs, set tables, served food, cleared tables, washed dishes and re-set tables. Whew! I was assigned to re-set our table for the next people.

Before we were allowed to go to school we had to go to the changing rooms. I got a thin blue pinafore, a grey cloak, a white apron and white pantaloons to wear. We had to wear our hair in pigtails and we looked very different from our usual selves. Mam and Sir, our teachers, gave us a lecture on old fashioned etiquette. We were not allowed to wear wristwatches or earrings.

5S, my class, went to St Peters, taught by Mam. 5W went to Red Hill National School, taught by Sir. It's all very thrilling.

Love from Dilini XOXO

 

Tuesday 10th September, 1996

Dear Mum and Dad,

Before school today we had a tour of Sovereign Hill with Sir and he dropped us off to Mam. There were 'visitors' from Melbourne who looked distinctly like Mr Burke, Miss Scott and Mrs Vehoeve in old fashioned clothes! Mam said they were looking for some girls to work for them in Melbourne.

We wrote the old English alphabet on slate. It was very tricky and looked quite different from writing nowadays. I was told off for keeping my slate at an angle. Mam gave us some writing copy books which we had to write in with ink pens. That was like writing with a pen that's running out!

We ate delicious flake and chips for lunch at the New York Bakery. Then we were allowed to buy things from the streetside shops. Kara, Christina and I walked together. A lady asked us if she could take a photo of us. We said yes and posed for it. I'll sign any autograph books when I come home!

Then hastily we rushed to the classroom, just in time to get our photos taken. Lastly, we learned cross-stitch. Then the bombshell dropped. Mam told us that we had to learn the 18 times table for tomorrow! Oh no!

Also, we had to pay our fees in shillings and pennies. OR we could do something in return, like fixing the hole in the roof or dusting the windows. Mam expects a letter saying what we'll do in return for schooling. Now I'm pondering over what to write. Dad's the richest person in Sovereign Hill and he can definitely afford my fees. HELP!

Love from Dilini XOXO

 

Tuesday 10th September, 1996

Dear Shalini,

After school we shopped. I bought Mum and Dad a handmade ceramic mug and butter holder. I bought you and Sonali gold mining pans and some delicious raspberry drops.

After that, we went back to the bunkrooms and we had time to learn our 18 times tables and do homework. I wrote that dad would send Mam a cheque. Next we had to change into warm clothes for Blood on the Southern Cross, the Sound and Light show. When we stepped outside we were freezing. Brrr!

The sounds and lights were very realistic &endash; you could hear the clip clop of horse hooves, the policeman's whistle and even people talking! Later, we got onto a peculiar sort of bus with no windows or doors. We arrived at an outdoor theatre. The show was fabulous and very informative. I couldn't tell whether some of the things were real or just light trickery. Hot chocolate was a hit after the show was finished because it warmed us up.

Back in the bunkrooms, however, we practised the times tables, in spite of how exhausted we were. We didn't talk much that night, and the teachers were glad. They'd given us a rebuke about 'How not to stay awake until 2 o'clock am'!

Love from Dilini XOXO

 

Wednesday 11th September, 1996

Dear Lucy,

Today Mam took us to Red Hill National School where the other class was learning. We had a tour of their classroom and they had a tour of ours. I was glad, because we were all curious. Red Hill is a lot smaller than St Peters. Mam said it is because we are a private school and they are public.

Before long, Mam showed us around the town. First she took us to the bakery where there were some delicious breads being made. They smelled heavenly. We got to have a look inside the oven and it was about ten times the length of a usual one.

Then we went to an old fashioned clothes shop called David Jones. Does that ring a bell? There was a separate room for ladies to try on hats because it used to be rude to have nothing covering your head and let men see you!

Next we went into an old fashioned local theatre. It was tiny, but warm. Finally we went back to St Peters. Mr Burke, Miss Scott and Mrs Vehoeve had chosen the people that they required to work for them and a medallion was given to the person who had worked the hardest.

Love from Dilini XOXO

 

Wednesday 11th September, 1996

Dear Sonali,

At school we had to recite our 18 times tables! I'd memorised them and luckily Mam didn't ask them out of order. Fortunately, she accepted my excuse for not paying her the fees.

Just before lunchtime someone rapped loudly on the door with a walking stick. We all jumped. When Mam opened the door the Vicar was standing there. The Vicar is the principal of the school as St Peters is his church. He looked a very fierce man, with black clothes and top hat, a dark moustache and bushy, shaggy eyebrows. His eyes pierced through everyone with his cold, hard stare. We were fearful for the Vicar watched us working.

"Your times tables need to be improved," said the Vicar.

"Yes, sir, we'll try," said Mam.

"Try?" the Vicar snorted. "You MUST!"

However, when he looked at our writing books he said sorrowfully, "What a pity &endash; I cannot find a single mistake." He walked briskly out of the room. Everyone thought he was mad!

Love from Dilini XOXO

 

Wednesday 11th September, 1996

Dear Amma,

We had spaghetti for lunch at the New York Bakery today. After lunch I walked around with my friends and we took photos. I posed Christina, Kara and Amal in front of a general store and with horses that pulled cart-rides.

After school, Mam and Sir thanked us for coming and said they'd loved teaching us. We farewelled them and left for the Quartz mine.

At the mine we met Mark, a friendly tour guide. He told us that the mine had been made specifically for tours but when digging they had discovered a real, historic mine. There was an eerie sensation. Displays were everywhere of people doing things like digging and using all kinds of different mining tools. Mark said that miners were killed because of dust that covered their lungs until they couldn't breathe. The miners knew this, but kept working because if they happened to strike it rich their families would benefit.

We heard of Harry, the ghost of the mine, on the way to the gold river. Though I tried I didn't find any gold. I'm never lucky. Mr Burke found 24 pieces in one pan and gave them away.

Love from Dilini XOXO

 

Thursday 12th September, 1996

Dear Dr Aunty,

Before departure our bunkroom received Overall Cleanest Room. I think we got extra points because of the chant we sang.

Room 13 is really clean,
The posts on our beds are mineral green.
We don't have any dust,
When removing, we've never fussed.
Smiles on our faces is our make,
The smiles produced are never fake.
Room 13 is the best,
WE'LL IMPRESS ANY GUEST!!!

Of course, half of it wasn't true but our straight line of shoes, rolled up sleeping bags and clean shelves made up for it.

We left Sovereign Hill at 5.00 pm. Camp was nearly over. Everyone was sad, but full of news to tell their families. Toward the end of the trip nobody spoke. Everyone looked out of the window eagerly as the bus pulled up into the school driveway. We were greeted by hundreds and thousands of parents. Camp was over!

Love from Dilini XOXO

TOP

Autumn winds sighed as I stepped off the plane onto Australian ground. I had no idea where I was or why I was here.

'Xue Li, at last!' I heard my mother say with pleasure. She seemed to be flowing with excitement at the sight of this strange new place.

'Sydney', my father said in English. Dad seemed as calm as a windless day about this place.

'Why's the sky so big?' my brother inquired. The azure blue sky seemed to stretch on forever, uninterrupted by any human-made structures.

'Because there aren't as many big buildings to hide it', my mother answered. Even she seemed mesmerised by the spell of the clean and crisp autumn air and the sight of the fairy floss clouds, floating by so carelessly and freely.

We were taken to my aunt's place where we stayed for a week. The space seemed endless here. Grass spread out in all directions like a picnic rug along the pavement of their tree-lined streets. We were afraid to step on it at first, being intimidated by the 'Keep off the grass' signs found all over the public parks in Hong Kong. Fortunately there weren't any, and for the first time our family stepped on grass, enjoying every bit of it.

Soon it was time for us to leave for Newcastle, where my father would start his new job at the university.

On my first day of school I was shaking with excitement. I did not realise that the smattering of Kindergarten English I had learnt in Hong Kong would not be enough for me to get by. It only contained sentences like 'this is an elephant' and 'his name is Peter', who was one of the characters in our textbook. I thought it didn't matter because they would speak Cantonese anyway.

My teacher was a Belgian lady, Mrs G. She tended to shout a lot. As I could not understand her accent nor her words, I was terrified and paranoid that she was shouting at me.

My first week at school went fairly smoothly. I just remained as silent as a muted trumpet pretending that I was enjoying it, even though I did not understand a word they were saying. Deep inside, I was hoping that somehow things would be different next week.

After the initial excitement the truth began to sink in. And along with my parents' property-browsing for a house closer to school, I sank into the state of despair. I would cry for my parents at school and my brother would have to come in quite often to interpret my calls since no one spoke any Cantonese.

Since my brother was usually too busy to interpret or too incompetent himself to be much help, I was placed with a 'buddy', a girl named Penny. She tried to help me understand what was going on and she introduced me to her many friends.

With the help of Penny and the rest of my friends I trekked my way through the maze of Year One. I came to dead ends of immature boys' teasing, sharp corners of sickness and exits when Penny's birthday party was on at the end of the year. My friends encouraged me as I navigated myself through the puzzle of maths and I was very grateful as I knew I could never have made it out alone.

At Penny's birthday party I realised she was my first true best friend. But even though I had to leave my grandparents behind in Hong Kong, and some of my other lovely friends, too, I was glad Dad had accepted the job and brought our family to Australia.

It stayed that way until Year Two when my parents decided to move my brother and me to another school that was recommended for us by many of their friends.

I remember crying my eyes out on the last day of school. Through my misty eyes I saw Penny for the last time. I cannot recall her face or the games she liked to play. But I will always remember her words as my mother took my hand and I walked out of the school playground for the last time: 'Every journey of a thousand miles must always begin with a single step.'

I knew I was just taking my first step in my maze of a thousand miles as I waved to Penny and my friends at St Therese's Primary School. Then I turned and stepped towards the ray of hope at the other end of the maze.

TOP

MEMOIR 4: And Baby Makes Four

Jennifer Coltton (age 16)

Some things never, ever change. Ever. Take for example, if you will, my brother &emdash; a boy who has remained virtually the same since day one. I mean, some things stop being funny after you turn two ... he's eleven and obviously doesn't care. I find it incredibly hard to think that the world's most strongly willed and manipulative woman would be even remotely capable of changing him. To date, even my mother has failed and, believe me, that says a lot!

I can now vividly remember that once seemingly horrid day when little boy wonder (more like 'Beavis & Butthead's' long lost cousin, but that's beside the point) was rudely introduced into my peaceful four-year existence.

I was rushed into the car, not because my mother's waters had broken, but simply because my father (who had suddenly turned into a stammering lunatic) thought that it added momentum to the effect of giving birth to a baby. A baby. What on earth was that? I was sure that a baby was NOT on my Christmas list. Barbies yes, babies no. Why, what could we possibly do with one of those? I should have to ask my Mum, who I can now recall as looking rather constipated at the time (and she was always telling me to 'go' before we left!).

'Mum!' I yelled &emdash; to add to the effect, of course.

'Be quiet', she didn't yell &emdash; it was more of a moan, reminiscent of when our dog was sick.

'What's a baby?'

'We have been through this SO many times. Just please be good for Mummy now, OK?' I pondered on her request for a moment and decided that I really needed to know about this baby, whatever it was, right now. Some things couldn't wait, and I was one of them.

'Mum, tell me again! I don't remember.' Dad slowed for the traffic light which he cursed.

'Oh, God! OK, a baby is what I'm going to have in the hospital.' She started breathing quickly.

'Can't we buy one instead, because I think ...'

'No. Drive SLOWER! Do you want us all to die? Here, let me drive!' A stupid suggestion I thought. Dad would never let Mum drive, she was too fat. And why was she being so mean? All I wanted to know was what 'it' was. I sat quietly in the back and tried to peek into Mum's bags &emdash; pyjamas, brush, toothpaste ... a little shoe? I looked closer and found that there were two little shoes.

'Mum! These shoes won't fit me!' Honestly, how little did she think I was? Two?

'They're not for you, put them back.' NOT for ME? She must have been joking ... everything was for me ... I wasn't falling for it.

'Well whose are they then?' I was truly a sly little thing.

'They're the baby's.' Eh? Come again, did she say the baby's? No way, that was ridiculous &emdash; they didn't even know this baby! How could they be buying it shoes? It was odd; actually no, stupid was a better word. I wanted new shoes. I was quiet for a little while.

'That's not fair!'

'What's not?' A unison response from Mum and Dad. This was more like it.

'Why does the baby get new shoes? I want shoes! Give them to me!'

'No! You already have shoes; you don't need any more new shoes.' Even though I was only four years old I knew that a girl could never have 'too many shoes'.

'YES I DO!' OK, I knew that I was asking for it now but I was not a happy girl and I didn't care. I was so filled with questions that weren't going to be answered when I wanted them to be answered ... it wasn't fair! 'Why are you buying this baby shoes? Don't its Mummy and Daddy buy it any?' I wasn't giving up that easily.

'Sweetheart, I know this is hard for you right now but listen to me. The baby is in my tummy and it doesn't have any shoes, or clothes. It's your Dad's and mine - we're the baby's parents. Do you understand?' I didn't understand but I could tell that she was practically dying for me to understand her. I didn't have the chance to give her the satisfaction; suddenly she screamed for Dad to go faster and I was forgotten.

A baby. A baby with no shoes or clothes, in MY Mum's tummy. That was just too far-out for me to get a grip on! I thought the whole thing was rubbish. How did it get in there in the first place? Surely babies didn't run around naked, climbing through fat ladies' belly-buttons ... did they? And if my parents were its parents then how did I get here? It would have been pointless if I had been told that I had come from my Mum's tummy too because I knew that I never would have run around naked even if my life depended on it! I was confused but I knew that I didn't want a baby. Ever. What if it was yuck?

'Can we take it back?' I asked this very cautiously &emdash; I didn't want to alert them to my plan.

'Take what back? The shoes? NO, we can't.' Well, finally, a straight answer. I figured that if the shoes weren't going back then neither was the baby. I wasn't stupid.

The hospital was big and white and it smelt majorly like the stuff Dad used when I grazed my knees. I wanted to go home. We went upstairs instead. Mum said that it was kind of like a hotel. I thought otherwise; hotels didn't make babies, only food. Nice food and not yucky babies. I sat on a couch and reviewed my plan &emdash; if Mum's baby was gross then I would go down to the gift store and get a refund, or at least a nicer one. I clapped my hands at my ingenuity. 'Easy peasy lemon squeezy!' This would be fun! I fell asleep.

I woke up at night time when I thought it strange for the sun to be coming out &emdash; maybe it was dark-morning-time or something. It was cold. No, I was cold and all by myself &emdash; in the hospital! With babies! I inched my way out of the dark room quietly, scared fully out of my mind and busting for the toilet. I made it out into the hall and walked straight into my grandmother. What? My grandmother? And the rest of my family? Did they want babies too? I hoped not but decided to ask anyway.

'Aunty, do you want a baby too?'

'Yes I do! Aren't you excited? Oh, but now you won't be the baby of the family anymore ... but that's OK, isn't it? Yes, of course it is.' She chattered on like an excited monkey and I tuned out, very insulted. I mean, excuse me, but was she calling ME a baby? I should think not; I was four and babies were NOT four. I was horrified that she thought I was a baby; she was clearly not thinking properly &emdash; especially if she wanted a baby. But, I thought, if she really wanted one, since she was family and all, then I thought that I should probably ask Mum to give her ours. We weren't going to need it, so why be selfish? Besides, Mum was always telling me to share.

I realised that someone had been screaming and making sick noises for quite a while and then it occurred to me that it might be my Mum! I asked Nan but she said, 'Yes' and that it was perfectly normal when a woman was having a baby to scream (she said that this was because the baby came out from an awkward place &emdash; I didn't ask) and that I shouldn't worry about it! And then she told me to draw a picture for Mum and the baby! I couldn't draw, not then! And I didn't think it was very normal at all. That baby was making MY Mum scream and enough was enough. I bee-lined for the door and burst in.

OH.

MY.

GOD.

OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD!!!!! I shut my eyes tightly and turned around with my hands over my ears. I didn't think that I had wanted to see that and was waiting to get in trouble. I felt sick.

Suddenly everything went quiet. Then Mum breathed out and I heard her fall back onto some pillows. Someone slapped what sounded like flesh and then there was this phenomenal scream and then a man said, 'It's a boy!' &emdash; and then there was me thinking that the world was about to end.

I decided to be brave &emdash; like a big girl &emdash; and turned around. Mum was holding a bundled thing which Dad was staring at. He looked at Mum and said, 'Ten fingers and ten toes.' So, the bundle had toes &emdash; and then it dawned on me that the bundle was the baby; now this I had to see. I moved towards the bed and Mum smiled at me and told me to look at the baby, so I did. And it was tiny and pink &emdash; and they expected me to believe that it was a boy? A pink boy? An ugly pink boy with no hair? Yeah, right! he must have been faulty or off or something. Everyone knows that boys are blue. Not pink. Then the baby yawned without covering its mouth. Mum asked me if I liked my new brother. Oh. No way! MY brother? I thought not. The girl next door had one of those and he was a fully certified idiot. I was about to cry when I remembered my plan and smiled &emdash; I would definitely be going down to the gift store later. No one was stealing my show!

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I remember when I was six years old. I became ill with a serious condition called Ulcerative Colitis. It was a very stressful time for my Mum and Dad before I was diagnosed. I had been ill for quite a few weeks with bleeding from the bowel. As I was quite young I didn't really know what all the fuss was about and all I was worried about was the fact that I had to go into hospital. I was playing up a treat which I now realise was upsetting Mum and Dad even more.

I remember the first night I spent in hospital huddling under my blankets crying, with a feeling of abandonment. Early next morning Mum and Dad were back looking extremely tired and worried. They explained to me that I was going to have to undergo some tests that weren't going to be pleasant. Next thing a lady who I mistook for a cleaner came in with a hose and a jug of water and explained to me that she was going to clean my bowel out. Mum and Dad were right, it wasn't what I would classify as pleasant.

It was at this stage where I was at my absolute obnoxious best. I started yelling and screaming that there was no way I was letting a cleaner put a hose anywhere near my bottom. Even after Mum and Dad explained that she was actually a special nurse who looked after people with things wrong with their bowel I still wasn't convinced and in fact I'm still not to this day.

After I had been through this humiliating experience I was taken to the theatre and put to sleep with a needle that seemed to hurt more than the others. When I woke up I was hungry and wasn't allowed to eat. I wasn't exactly thrilled at this prospect and I had another tantrum.

When the doctor came in and told Mum and Dad that the biopsies they had taken from my bowel in the theatre showed a really rare germ was eating away at the lining of my bowel and causing ulcers and that they would have to take me to Sydney to see the only specialist in Australia who could help to make me better, I became excited at the prospect of flying to Sydney. I actually thought it would be quite an adventure. Boy, was I wrong.

Dad wasn't able to go with us because of his work commitments and Mum was crying as she was really worried about what was wrong with me and the fact that she had to leave my brothers at home as well. (I was rather pleased about that, or at least I was for a while.) To make matters worse there was an air strike and we had to catch an international flight which was going to China. Mum was convinced that our luggage would end up in China.

When we arrived in Sydney we had to get a taxi to the hospital. I was already missing Dad. Mum kept telling me how brave I was and how much she loved me. Now in the mind of a six-year-old strange things can happen and I became convinced that I was going to die. Poor Mum tried to be really cheerful but I could see that she was really very worried.

The doctors were nice enough, but they always talked about me as if I wasn't there. I can remember one day I was to have ANOTHER blood test. Something just snapped inside me when the stupid nurse said, 'Now dear this won't hurt a bit.' With that I jumped out of bed and hid underneath it with the bars down so she couldn't reach me, all the while screaming my lungs out that she was stupid and a liar and that I was sick of being treated like an idiot. After that things changed and I was treated like someone who actually had a brain and ears. Mum told me she was very proud of me for standing up for myself. She has since told me that before that day I had lost my fighting spirit and that was what was really worrying her the most.

I hated the nights the most. Sometimes when I was having a really bad day Mum would sleep in a chair by my bed. I guess you have to be older to really appreciate what parents go through.

One day I looked up to see my Dad coming into the ward. I don't think I will ever forget that day. I had been in hospital in Sydney for six weeks and had only been able to talk to Dad on the phone. It was a very emotional time for us all.

The reason for Dad's visit became very clear the next morning when the doctor came in and told me that I wasn't responding to the treatment, which was making me look like a sumo wrestler, and that I would have to have an operation to remove the part of my bowel that was diseased and that I would have to have a colostomy bag. I had no idea what this meant, so he explained that I wouldn't be able to go to the toilet like other kids because I would have a hole in my stomach where the contents of my bowel would come out and then into the bag. (Wasn't that a nice way of explaining it?)

I was really angry. There was no way known I was going to have a hole in my stomach with all of its contents hanging out. Mum cried, Dad cried, then they apologised for being so sooky. Then I cried, then we all cried together. I was really scared and just wanted to go home. The doctor was running out of patience with me. Dad said he wanted another opinion, which caused a bit of trouble.

The next day another doctor came to see me and suggested another test as he thought I was way too small for my age. I was hooked up to all these monitors and had fluid taken from my pancreas. After two days he came back with the results. It turns out I was born with a condition called Schwackman's Syndrome which was the reason I wasn't growing properly as I don't have enough enzymes to digest my food. Now we knew why I wasn't getting any better. The medicine I was taking wasn't getting absorbed properly and so the Ulcerative Colitis, which was something quite separate from the Schwackman's Syndrome, was spreading. After that I had to have different medication through a drip in my arm, which hurt like you wouldn't believe. When I had been on the new medication for two weeks I had to have another biopsy on my bowel which showed the ulcers were finally starting to heal.

After being in hospital for ten weeks it looked like I was finally going home. I was actually really missing my brothers, although that could have been a side effect of the medication. On the day before I was to go home the nurses threw a party for me, as they said I was like part of the family. I actually think they were glad to see the last of me. But, as fate would have it, on the day I was to leave I started running a temperature and got sick. I couldn't believe it. The reason turned out to be that I had been in contact with chicken pox and because of the medication I was on I was at risk of becoming very sick again as my immune system was very low. So off to isolation I went while Mum and Dad rang everyone to tell them I wouldn't be coming home just yet. Dad cancelled our flight and booked into the hotel again. After another five days I was given the all clear and we made a very speedy exit out of the hospital.

I can remember being at the airport with all my aunties, uncles, cousins, Nanny and Corey and Josh and everyone wanting to kiss me. YUK. Corey had made me a really big card with all my favourite cartoon characters drawn on it. He must have spent a lot of time doing it. I still have it in my cupboard and I will always keep it as a reminder to him that he once liked me!

When I went back to school I got teased because I had a really fat face from the medication. I hated school then and never wanted to go.

I still have to go to Sydney every year for check-ups. I still hate having biopsies because I have to eat jelly for five days before I go and then drink PARAFFIN OIL for a day. Nobody uses the toilet but ME on that day.

I think going through an experience like this at a young age has a profound effect on the way I think about people with illnesses. I saw many sad things that Mum and Dad wish that I hadn't seen, like the day a family was told that their little boy had cancer. It was very sad as he had to go to another ward and we had become friends. He has since died. I somehow knew that I would never see him again.

Having my Mum and Dad with me during that time was wonderful. I just wish that they didn't have to go through all the worry. Mum tells me I was really horrible for a while but it wasn't my fault as I was too young then to understand.

I think I decided way back then that I would be a music therapist when I leave school as that is the one happy memory I have about being in hospital. Having the therapist come in and sing and play with me was great. Mum enjoyed this time as well, because she knew she could leave me and I would be happy for an hour.

I know I will have to take medication for the rest of my life, but at least I can enjoy life and all it has to offer and I have no intention of letting the Schwackman's Syndrome or the Ulcerative Colitis interfere with my ambitions or enjoyment of life.

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John's clothes were made of camel's hair; he wore a leather belt round his waist, and his food was locusts and wild honey. Matthew 3:4

I would like you to focus on the bit about the locusts. Locusts are annoying little critters that destroy the crops and get in the farmers' way. So where I used to live (Albury) it would be absolute terror for the farmers if even one locust was seen. But if there was a locust plague, it was the best time for the kids of my school and neighbourhood. Locust catching! That was the main source of entertainment for the area. The art of locust catching was to catch one while they were hopping on the grass and (when caught) pull off their back legs. You know, the ones they jump with. Normally then they would have been put in jars or squashed. But not so with me.

546 Paine St &emdash; that was our old address in Albury. It was a good place. I'll skip the boring details and get right to the good bit. Out the back there was a disused compost area. It used to contain garbage, gunk and worms. Now with the new compost bins, you don't need a structure of wood, mesh and tin. Nobody used it anymore, except me. The mesh and wood provided the perfect trap for bugs and other things, which is what I did. I kept all sorts of bugs there. Every now and then, when I was really bored, I would go down the back and cook one by putting it on the hot tin and letting the sun do its work.

On some occasions (when I was under the age of six) I would find out which bugs were not poisonous and eat them. This was only if I was really, really bored &emdash; and don't forget I was very young at the time. I can still remember the first bug I ate. It was a green locust. It had a sort of chestnutty&endash;woody flavour. Suddenly the flavour would change. It had the essence of blood you would suck from your finger. All together though, it did taste rather nice and I can remember going back for seconds, thirds and dessert.

Then a major thing happened. I was herded into a room and an old lady forced me to learn about numbers, words and other children. This was called SCHOOL.

I was lucky. A couple of days before, there had been a rumour going around that over on the bike track there was a field that could jump. Deciding to investigate, I went for a walk. Finding the jumping field, I walked closer. What it actually was, was a field of jumping green locusts! I walked back to the track and looked back. They were right. It looked exactly like a field of jumping grass. Then it hit me! That means there is a locust plague! HOORAY! That means my box will be full! Finally!

On the way home I started to see the effects of the plague. I looked over some of my neighbours' fences and I saw the mothers and wives frantically taking all the green washing off the washing lines.

Back at my house I saw the reason why. My parents were out, so my sister and I were the only ones in the house. She was happily shacked up in her room, so I had to get the washing off the line. What I saw devastated me. My green Nike trousers were eaten to pieces! I tried to get them off the line but the locusts were too thick. They got all over me and some even went up my shirt. It was a terrible experience and all the green dye on the clothes was gone! The backyard was brown and all that was green was infested with locusts.

This was the perfect time to get some locusts! I went to my greenhouse, pulled out a green branch and placed it in a box. I then walked back outside. About twenty locusts flew towards me and pounced on the cutting. Then I thrust the lid down and they were trapped. I walked over to my cage and placed them inside. Already I could see that my collection was decreasing, probably due to the fact that I now had a wolf spider inside. Well, this should fill it up, as well as another couple of loads.

The next day was Monday, which meant SCHOOL. I was lucky there were locusts, else I would have been bored to death. As we poured out of the classroom, I could tell what was on everyone's mind &emdash; locust catching! You should have seen the playground at that moment. Almost every person in the school was on their hands and knees catching locusts with a hat or piece of sheet metal, including me. In that day alone, I caught over forty locusts with just my jacket.

By now my cage was overflowing and so was the rest of the city. The footpaths were absolutely covered with the 'critters from hell', as the farmers called them. But be they critters or be they friends, they were still my hobby. By now I had given up eating bugs. But my wolf spider now was so bloated that he couldn't move. So I took him out and put in a huntsman. More locusts, more locusts and MORE LOCUSTS!

Now, when I caught locusts, I had to put them in jars, with ten to each. My room was covered with jars of all descriptions and, worse, my cat Annie used to come in and push the jars off the shelves, thus letting the locusts free to roam around our house. My mum went hysterical when she saw the locusts inside the house. So I had to catch them all again, one by one. After that was done I had to clean up my room and I found three more locusts.

The next day at school the locust numbers seemed to be dwindling. But that didn't stop us. We caught just as many as before. The next day, though, they had virtually disappeared, so we didn't catch any. By the next day they were gone completely. I still had my locusts, but I had to take out the huntsman because he was eating too many.

So that was my experience with a locust plague. Well, it wasn't really a plague, more a time of plenty. But I know I enjoyed it more than anything else in my whole entire life.

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This page updated: 23 January 2006 Webmaker: Howard Smith. hsmith4@une.edu.au