There are many stories of many highs and lows in our Perth years but I'll leave those for other posts in the future and skip forward to September 1985.
We had a Holden HK Station wagon that we had purchased for $500 within the first week of our arrival, and it had broken down once again. It was a lovely two tone brown station wagon in need of much TLC when we first saw the station wagon with the red 186 motor - turns out it was just dirty and was in fact blue. Anyway, I had just been ripped off by my employer a South African migrant and lost all of our savings (a long story for another day) when our real estate agent gave us seven days notice to vacate as the property had been sold. My neighbour, Mr Hannover had been offering me a full time job on the Canning Council for some time and I had knocked him back (Rejected the offer) several times as the catch was that I would pay graft of 25% to him for the job. I didn't have a lot of options available so I went hat in hand and accepted Hannover's offer. I told him of my predicament and asked for a lift to the depot to which he agreed for an additional 25% - I simply couldn't afford to work for half a wage so opted to walk instead, it was less than three hours each way and I'd done a lot tougher than that.
Ronnie found a house a few blocks away, rent was only $5 a week more and the little old lady who owned it promised to clear out the double garage and two of the three bedrooms where she had been storing her things, within the week. The house hadn't been lived in for a while so we didn't even realise that the open drain at the rear was actually a French sewer (above ground trough that one needs to flush manually frequently). We applied for and received our first credit card, a Bankcard and were able to pay the bond and buy a lounge suite (All of our furniture to that point had been gifted to us by battlers, recovered from the tip or en-rout to the tip.) so things appeared to be improving. I was very negative and had developed a habit, of referring our luck to 'Lombard's Law', Murphy's Law says that if things can go wrong they will while 'Lombard's Law says that there is no such thing as 'if'. So naturally things went from bad to worse as we reap what we sow.
By November I had taken about as much as I could, the car had broken down again, our landlord had made no attempt to clear the rooms or the garage which were padlocked, I had discussed the graft issue with three of the six, six man crews that Hannover supervised and estimated that he was making an extra $1800 per week off our backs. It had been decided that we would confront him (Hannover) to put a stop to the graft with the threat of exposing him if he wouldn't listen to reason. I was elected spokesperson and we brought the matter to a head - Hannover was not at all interested and immediately sacked me and increased graft to everyone by a further 5%. I went to the office and reported Hannover and judging by my reception, there were many hands in that cookie jar. I was paid my severance with benefits which totalled about $350 so I headed home. On arrival at home Veronica, the Landlady and a Gentleman in a suit were having a heated discussion behind my car in the driveway. It turned out that the suited gent was a court Sheriff accompanying the landlady who was serving an eviction notice as she was going to move back into the house. We had 48 hours to vacate the premises and this was the proverbial straw that broke this camels back.
Ronnie and I discussed our options and decided to leave Perth which had not been good for us, we would head for Brisbane as our closest relatives lived there and we were sorely in need of a little empathy and motivation. Our resources were all but extinguished and we would have to start again but would settle wherever the car broke down or we ran out of money, whichever came first. I had picked up a head for the motor from the tip which I was going to have skimmed but didn't have the time. I cleaned the head up as best I could and put the motor back together. The bankcard had become a maxed out problem that we had cut up weeks earlier so we had $300 to our name and 7000km to go in our old boong wagon 'Betsy'. What we couldn't fit on the trailer we simply left behind, we didn't have much anyway but I still had to chock the trailer (set blocks in place to prevent the suspension from breaking).
The kids thought that this was a great adventure as we set off. I was sorely tempted to deal with Hannover but the thought of my family trying to cope while I languished in jail kept me in control as we drove past his house.
Well of course we broke down, not once but many, many times. I carried spare water, oil and fuel, extra air in the spare and a compression pump which used one of the 6 cylinders to pump air. The motor was on the boil within a hundred kilometres and only quit when the oil became so thin that the motor heat seized. We would set up camp on the side of the road, people had advised us that Aussies were such a helpful bunch that if you stayed on the road, someone (usually a truckie) would stop to offer help.... well they did slow down, to about 120 kph as they went past. No-one ever stopped and there were no offers of help, no knight in shining armour I'm afraid.
The first time things got a bit serious, was whilst crossing the Nullabor, we were in the treeless plain when there was what sounded like a shot, the oil temperature needle practically jumped into the red and a black trail appeared on the bitumen behind us. I pulled the car over, stopped and popped the bonnet, I could barely touch the bonnet even with a thick rag, it was so hot but I did manage to get it up and could see oil squirting from the block. The oil temp sensor had stripped and blown out of the block, ... great! I walked back down the road to the start of the oil trail and low and behold there it was smack bang in the middle of the road - unbelievable. I picked it up and headed back to the car which was way too hot to work on. I was worried about the kids staying hydrated and told Ronnie that we would set-up camp. It was the middle of the day and as we finished putting the tent up we heard a popping hissing sound only to find that the thermostat we had purchased from KMart had just exploded, it seemed it couldn't handle anything over 55℃.
At 22h00 the car had cooled enough for me to work on it, I used some trinipon 2-part putty to cement the sensor back into the block and reattached the wire, replaced the oil and water and rejoined
Ronnie at about midnight. We discussed our situation, broken down with little hope of reviving old 'Betsy', half a world away from our immediate family, two babies, very little food, about $150 to our name, a $1500 bankcard debt and bugger all left to lose. It was actually quite a relief to know that we were about as low as we could go. We had been fighting so hard for so long and steadily going backward, feeling trapped as we couldn't go back and we couldn't settle, we had cried crocodile tears of regret as we prayed to be woken from this nightmare. There we were gazing at the stars and realising that apart from our importance to one another
(our children included) we were of very little significance in this most awesome universe, we were finally at peace - praise God. This was a significant turning point in our lives which we often reflect upon, a tranquillity like none other which was truly awesome.
When we awoke at daybreak we prepared a meal, had a coffee and I told Ronnie to sit tight as I tried to revive old 'Betsy'. I put the key into the ignition and said a little prayer as I turned it.... Vroommmm, first go - unbelievable! We packed up the camp and off we headed once again being very mindful of our oil temp, watching the water temp was a waste of time as it was in the red almost immediately. We made a couple of stops to look at the coastline but didn't want to wander too far from the beaten track as a remote breakdown would almost certainly mean death.
When we arrived at Ceduna, while refuelling the car at a service station I went to top up our drinking water only to find the taps locked, I found this curious so made enquiries at the teller. I was not prepared for the tirade of abuse I received - it seems that we bloody useless wogs (a common term for foreigners) are nothing but a drain on Australian society wasting what precious little fresh water finds it's way into their tanks and I was to piss-off. Bugger! I had been warned about water shortages on the Nullabor but was totally unprepared for the water shortage in South Australia. Our enquiries eventually found us receiving a little 'drinking' water assistance from the South Australian Police Service. I did a quick scout about for a little work to boost our rapidly dwindling finances with no luck and decided to push on to Port Augusta.
As we stopped at the little towns along the way I would make enquiries about employment opportunities with little success, now and again I could earn a few dollars cleaning, loading or unloading but barely enough to buy a loaf of bread and carton of milk. After crossing the salt flats of Lake Gilles which are truly spectacular in a desolate way, Port Augusta was a hive of activity but alas no real work there either. I looked at the Flinders Ranges with dread, I was not sure 'Betsy' could do it even without the loaded trailer but armed with my new positive attitude we would attack the climb with gusto. I told the kids that Betsy could use their help as we started the climb and when the old girl was giving her all and barely moving and I mean literally barely moving millimetres, the kids would be singing out "C'mon Betsy, you can do it!" over and over for hours but we did make it to the top where we all took a well earned break.
 |
| Flinders Ranges South Australia |
|
By the time we reached Broken Hill, New South Wales we were flat broke and had half a loaf of stale bread. We booked into the Caravan Park to make use of the facilities which we were in desperate need of. The owners were wonderful people who took me at my word that I would make good on the fees. Alas I walked that town flat looking for work but was unable to earn so much as a dollar. Fortunately our kids had made friends in the caravan park and were being invited to eat with the other kids families but by day five I was desperate and resorted to begging on the street, this was a new eye opening and humbling experience I can assure you.
Someone suggested that I see the Department of Social Services for assistance but I was loath to do this due to our agreement of entry, not to be a financial burden for at least 10 years and I was fearful of deportation back to Zimbabwe but desperate times call for desperate measures to I took the chance and went in to the local DSS. I was given a $40 advance along with having the riot act read to me and advised to register for unemployment assistance - seems foolish now but at the time I was in a strange land with no one to educate me on what was expected so I had always found a way to earn or go hungry, even when we had been homeless.
The caravan park owners wouldn't take a cent, bless them, so we had quick feed, filled the car and hit the road, we determined that there would be no more stops and that I would just drive through to Brisbane day and night, no matter what. The roads were terrible and I found it easier to drive on the verge rather than the bitumen. Somewhere near Cobar at about 23h00 we struck a big red roo, I braked hard but the weight was great and I had been doing about 90kph, possibly more. In any event the impact tumbled the roo forward where we struck it again and the roo tumbled forward. A third time we struck the roo and it tumbled to the left and disappeared into the darkness. I went looking for the animal as I didn't want to leave it suffering on the side of the road but after failing to locate it I returned to the car to inspect what I felt sure would be significant damage. Remarkably there was none and I began to question my sanity and the family who all agreed that we had indeed struck a big red three times, they had woken when I hit the brakes a split second before the first impact.
We continued on our journey only stopping for fuel and within 24 hours we were at the top of Cunningham's Gap where I decided that I really did need to catch a few zee's. At first light we set off once again and stopped in the little town/suburb of Ipswich to carry out our ablutions, tidy the car and review our situation before heading into Brisbane.
We came in off the Western Freeway
(wasn't much of a freeway back then) turning left at the Toowong Cemetary, heading for Ashgrove but we were thwarted by the hill outside Government House where Betsy just didn't have enough left in her to make the climb but worse yet she couldn't hold her loaded trailer. Funny now but anything but, at the time - so there we were in peak hour traffic, kids yelling encouragement to Betsy, me flailing my arms as we slid backward down the hill into a narrow side-street, incredibly without hitting anyone or anything. Betsy had an opportunity to cool down as we plotted a route around the steep climbs to our destination where we arrived at about 10h00. We pulled up in a sort small nature reserve opposite the block of units housing our relatives and set about brewing a cuppa (tea). I left Ronnie to tend to the camp and the kids as I went off with the balance of our cash $1.65 to make a phone call alerting the relatives of our arrival.
I returned to our little camp where an elderly lady was vacuuming the road outside her home, "okay", I thought as she approached me asking how long our tea break would take as she was offended by our belongings as depicted above "this eye sore" were her words. I took great delight in advising her that we were her new neighbours, she looked at me aghast before staggering off to her home. A little later she was to ask me where we were from, as we were obviously not locals judging by our accent. "We are from Africa" I answered. "Oh! No, No!! that's not right!" she stated, I asked why to which she said, "Well you are not black! Are you?". My response was, "Well that's because we have been here for a while now and are sun bleached". Well you could have knocked me over with a feather when she accepted my explanation with an enlightened "Oh! I see".
Till next time, God Bless.
