I met Sasha (Alex) in primary school. His parents had emigrated to Australia, from Russia, shortly after WW2. We became best mates until his untimely death in his mid 20s. This is a true story that happened in the mid 1950s.
Our homes were divided by the River Torrens which kind of flows (very sluggish and often green) through Adelaide and its northern suburbs. Its banks were overgrown with trees, reeds and weeds and it was inhabited by snakes, water rats, ducks, swans, yabbies and fish. Obviously, the perfect playground for Sasha and me.
My father has deserted my family and Sasha's was never home, either working or out whoring and drinking, so we were both raised in households of women (mothers and younger sisters). Not ideal for a pair of fearless ratbage, totally devoid of fatherly guidance. Needless to say, we spent every waking moment before and after school, as well as all weekend, at the river. Fishing, hunting water rats and ducks and swimming.
We were always well armed with quite lethal, home made bows and arrows, spears and knives that had mysteriously "disappeared" from our mothers' kitchens. We used to bring home the ducks that we had killed to our mums, who appreciated the fresh meat for our families The yabbies that we caught were sold to the local butcher for a few pennies a pound, which also were given to our mums. As for the fish...nada. Try as we might, we couldn't catch a fish.
Until we met "Darkie".
No-one knew his real name and he never told us. Darkie was a man who the locals named, due to to his unkempt black hair and beard and his dark sun tan. He never spoke to anybody and everyone was frightened of him. All the kids were told that he was dangerous and to stay away from him.
I think Darkie was suffering from PTSD as a result of his WW2 experiences but, in those days PTSD was pretty much unheard of, let alone understood.
Sasha and I often saw Darkie fishing in the river and we always kept a respectful distance from him although he always nodded "hello" to us, as we did to him. As I said before, Sasha and I could never catch any fish, despite many hours trying. Darkie, on the other hand, ALWAYS walked away with a bagful of fish in less than an hour. You can't believe how frustrating this was for a pair of intrepid hunters, such as Sasha and me.
One day, after a very long, fearful discussion, Sasha and I decided to put our fear aside and ask Darkie how to fish. I clearly remember that day, when 2 eight year old boys, almost crapping their pants in fear, quietly approached Darkie and, very politely, asked him to teach us how to catch fish.
I think we were the fist people to actually speak to him in a very long time. He just stared at us for a terrifyingly long time, then smiled and said "OK". Over the next few months, he not only taught us how to fish but also how to make very effective water rat and yabby traps. He also showed us how to cure water rat skins so that we could sell them as wall as lots of other useful hunting skills.
He was a wonderful, gentle person and never posed a threat to either Sasha or myself. One day, he just disappeared and we never saw him again. My mother said the police had taken him away, because he was a danger to people and he was either in jail or a mental asylum. Sasha and I were devastated.
In later years, I think that our experience with Darkie made both of us aware of peoples' ignorance and intolerance and, I hope it was responsible for our passion for social justice that we we both shared, despite our political differences as adults,.
No comments:
Post a Comment