The Two Faces of a Bag Poet

By Hopeton George Gray

A young Aboriginal girl named Mary Coombla, she is a prodigy destined for greatness. She grew up in the infamous suburb REDFERN-Sydney, an Aboriginal enclave and she was on the cutting edge breaking the stereotype of her past generation.

She received

• Language: English
• Publisher: STAMPA GLOBAL
• Release date: Jul 2, 2020
• ISBN: 9781951585686

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Copyright ©2020 Hopeton George Gray

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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Contents

Dedication

About the Author

Introduction

Chapter One: Playtime

Chapter Two: The Visitors

Chapter Three: Growing up-Party Time

Chapter Four: Neighbourhood Party

Chapter Five: Schooldays

Chapter Six: First Term at School

Chapter Seven: The Passing Years

Chapter Eight: The Funeral

Chapter Nine: Frontline Redfern

Chapter Ten: The Two Faces-Bag Poet

Dedication

The book is dedicated to my late father George Gray. He died in peace in 1961. I was eleven years old at that time. He taught me Psalm the 1st to which I still live by. Thanks to you father, today you would have been a proud father.

Many thanks to my beloved Aunty Bally who lives in Jamaica. She has stood by me through thick and thin, God bless her moving spirit. In time my darling the sun shall shine in your life; it is only a matter of time.

I have a brother and four sisters and children, may God bless them all.

About the Author

H opeton Gray was born in June, 1950 in Montego Bay, Jamaica. He attended Montego Bay Senior School until the age of fifteen. He then continued his education at Spencer Park School in London. He was a keen athlete and competed several times at London Schoolboys Championship, then for southern England.

After leaving school he joined Sainsbury Construction as a trainee draftsman gaining the Ordinary national Certificate in Engineering. He then Joined Ove Arup and partners, where he gained the Higher National Certificate at Merton Technical College. He then worked around London as a freelance contract design engineer.

At the age of twenty-nine he was recruited by the Papua New Guinea government where he worked on a three year contract as an engineer in buildings. He then moved to Australia where he gained his Masters of Engineering Science degree at the University of Sydney.

However, throughout his career, poetry and creative writing has been his passion. During that time he published various articles internationally. After twenty years of high science and traveling he has taken up writing and public performances full time, hence the name Starman. So far he has self-published his first book and CD to a limited market in Sydney, Australia. The book is a Rasta science fiction, Planet One Drop, and he also released a CD, Wisdom, in 1995.

In his toil and perseverance he is still trying to reach the mainstream market through a bona fide publisher. With God’s blessing this could be the first, praise God the Almighty one. Jamaica and those who love his works still wait to hear the storm from the man who has so much talent.

Introduction

T his is the story of a young Aboriginal girl named Mary Coombla. She was brought up in Eveleigh Street, REDFERN a small Suburb in Sydney, Australia. It would be similar to Brixton in England, the population mainly blacks.

Her parents came from the bush, they had rural upbringings, yet their new environment was now a Koori settlement, home of the New Age Aborigines. Their bloodline had been diluted by the new settlers (the white man), and where despair and suffering seemed to be a normal occurrence.

Amongst all this nothingness, there sprung a rose, a bright and chirpy girl named Mary. She was different, talented, a prodigy; she tried her best in all her activities. She was the only child of Mary and Kami Coombla. They were proud people who stood up for justice and equal rights.

Mary’s mother, Mabel, was an educated woman, a school teacher in ARMIDALE. Her career was cut short because of human prejudice. She then married Kami and they settled in REDFERN. They were devout Christians, real Kooris who believed in their ancestors and the dreamtime. They mixed the customs of the old and the new, from which they found their own harmonious blend. Both parents were strong pillars of the community, who tried hard in their disadvantaged world. Mary’s father, Kami, was a very special man, an elder and a poet, the voice of the people. Indeed, he was the cultural voice. He became a frustrated man who was trapped within the boundaries of his world whereby dignity and independence was hard to achieve.

Mary won a scholarship to All Saints High School in Orange, New South Wales. During her early years at school her mother Mabel died. It was a big hiccup in her life, but in time she got over the loss. They had the funeral and called unto the poet Kami, their dreamtime, and their ancestors.

She did very well at school, and became interested in poetry and its many facets, eventually performing live. One day, while rummaging around in her father’s room, she came across some poems strewn across the floor. She collected them and stacked them up into a leather bag. The bag became her hallmark during performances. She would sling the bag with a shaft over her shoulder, just like a swagman, and jolly she was too. She publicly recited her father’s lyrics, which she stored in the battered bag and became known as ‘The Bag Poet’. They both became nationally known.

Her father became sick soon after Mabel’s death, but recovered in a short while. Both Mary and Kami showed their talent. Father and daughter took to the stage and they became popular and famous. The father was a poet and so was the daughter. They performed together, hence the title, The Two Faces of a Bag Poet – Father and Daughter.

Chapter One

Play Time

T his is REDFERN, an inner city Suburb in Sydney, Australia. The time is 6pm, the year 1965. It was the beginning of winter, and the rain sprinkled all day. The weather was murky, musty, dark and wet…a very miserable day. In this settlement the children, although poor, looked good, dressed up in designers label clothing. On the other hand many strutted around barefooted; and just like the others clad in their ragged clothing.

The children felt natural and comfortable as they played all day long. You could hear laughter all around, as they hopped, skipped and jumped. They were happy, they were having fun. The children played outside on a piece of slushy muddy earth. They were four girls and one boy who played hopscotch. They jumped and skipped as they moved through each square. At the end of each square, each child stopped, hobbled, and then turned around, placing their marker in and out of each square as they jumped like Jackrabbits. They played happily until it was dark.

Mary was only five years old, bright and sparkling; she was now doing her squares. She was focused, and she knew what she was doing. She hopped into one square, with one foot up like Long John Silver, tottered, regained her balance and then continued.

For a moment she stood still, whilst rocking on one leg; then she threw her marker out; it went plop. There was a smile of satisfaction as she hopped and jumped. She was balanced on one leg as she picked up her marker. She continued traversing the squares as she led the attack. On and on she hopped, as she breezed past the winning post.

She ran around like a football star after a goal was scored. Mary exclaimed, ‘Yes, yes I’ve won… yes, I…I-won!’ She shouted, with clenched fist poised as she ran around. There was no jolly applause. Her friends resented her because she was the best. After some silence they reluctantly chimed, ‘Well done’. A tongue in cheek gesture.

Immediately after they ganged up against her when the real tease began, they made faces, jeered and booed continuously. It was a fun tease really; but they continued.

The children were all having fun, however Mary copped the brunt of their tease.

The gang of four continued as they chimed together;

Hey Mary, Mary

You’re quite contrary,

Cheat, cheat, you cheated,

We don’t want to play no more,

You’re always winning…’

Alison was the leader; she was seven years old. She was tall and lean with long blonde hair, and had a freckled peppered face with rosy cheeks that radiated confidence. Her youthful persona glowed like a bright light. Alison was the leader of the pack. Her clothing was loose and over-sized; the dress almost touched the ground. Her clothing was ripped in several places. As always she strutted around just like the others- barefooted.

The taunting and teasing continued, Mary screamed in response.

‘You’re not my friends!’

She paused, then continued ‘I hate you, I… I… I hate you all!’

Mary backed away crying, and then picked up her jumper and ran towards home.

She stood her ground once more before her final exit when she chimed, ‘I did win! I did so!’ With a twist and a shrug and stomping of feet she retaliated. Mary then ran off into the distance and disappeared out of sight like the wind.

The terrace houses on Eveleigh Street were classic broken-down houses. This was the inner city Aboriginal enclave, their haven. Mary ran to her front door, and pounded the door hard. Her mother Mabel opened the door.

‘Whatever is the matter, my child? Mabel asked, speaking almost in a monotone.

Mary sniffled, and then said with tears still streaming, ‘Mummy, Mummy, I… I won the game… and… and…and they said that I cheated.’

Ushering Mary inside, her mother asked, ‘And what game were you playing…hmmm?’

In between tears, whilst rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand Mary answered, ‘Hop-Scotch Mummy’.

Mabel continued, ‘Who were the friends you were playing with Mary?’

There were more tears as she drifted inside.

Mary continued amidst a tearful face, "It’s unfair Mummy….hmmm…there was Alison, Georgia, Kyle and George…and me…’

Mabel replied in jest, ‘Five of you, the fabulous gang of five, oh my God give me strength’. Mabel stood still and calmed herself. She had to think, as she slowly close the door.

Mary retreated with a skip then folded herself into her mother’s dress, a shield from the harsh world outside. The embrace pushed Mabel backwards onto the door, it was her safety net. Mary felt safe. She released herself as she dried her streaming tears.

Mother Mabel with a gentle touch said, ‘Go inside my child, for now it is safer’.

Mabel comforted her daughter. There was not much to be said. Mabel then said quietly, ‘Dinner is ready. Guess what we’ve got? It’s your favourite, roast beef.’

The mood suddenly changed.

‘Yummy, yum,’ Mary smiled, she felt much better.

The aroma was more evident as they entered the kitchen area. The aroma, the scent of her mother Mabel’s cooking was mouth-watering. Daddy Kami was already seated in his favourite chair. He sat looking strong and confident.

He said, ‘Come. Come here, Mary. Who is a good girl then? That’s my girl.’

Mary blushed as she wormed herself into her dad’s muscular, tattooed arms. She then smiled as he ruffled her hair.

‘My little one, sit with me…oh, Mary you are so contrary’

Daddy Kami patted her head then repeated, ‘Come my child, come and sit with your Daddy’. Come, this is the safest place in the world’.

They both smiled as she sat on her father’s thighs. She gave a heavy sigh. She was safe, at home with her Mum and Dad.

Mabel sat down at last. It was time for their feast. There was the usual clinking sound of utensils, as Kami took his first bite. He fed Mary in between, until he was stopped by Mabel. Mary was an only child, but like everyone else she had her responsibilities.

To be alive and happy was the greatest of them all. The meal was delicious. They had a choice it was a smorgasbord. They had before them, roast beef, grilled sausages, baked beans, and mashed potato. Mary was hungry, she dished her food in a hurry, and she was ravenous. Her satisfaction could be seen all over her face. A mixture of potato and beans was the evidence; it was in her lap, all over. She was having a good time.

Mary stretched across the table for her cup, the cup which was her favourite, it had an imprint of Bugs Bunny. Accidentally she knocked the cup over as she stretched. The spilt Coke ran everywhere. Crisis time and Mother Mabel to the rescue. Mabel grabbed the sponge from the sink and threw it on the table. The puddle and the general mess was soon put under control.

Kami looked at his daughter, and then said, "Never mind, my girl, I’ll pour you another.’

Mary beamed a smile as she reached out, with cup held in both hands. She drank thirstily, almost in one breath. She drained her cup, and as a finale she gave a big sigh, ‘Aahaam!’ The cup came to rest with an empty thud.

Mary sprang to her nimble feet, and then said, ‘I am going to watch the Telly- yeah’.

She scampered off like a busy bee. Mother Mabel followed soon after. The lounge door was slammed shut, and almost instantly one could hear the distorted sound from the TV.

It was cartoon time. Bugs Bunny and the Roadrunner. Mary became involved quite quickly, but she was interrupted by her mother.

‘Please Mary, Turn it down, and aren’t you cold? Let’s turn the fire on.’

Moving with a purpose, she then went over and lit the gas fire. The blue and green flames flew up with a pop. The flames became even and warm, the room was comfortable. Mabel left the room and Mary continued to watch the cartoon show. She was more than comfortable, as she fell asleep like a baby. Mabel came back soon after, saw that Mary was asleep, and went over and switched the television off.

‘Oh Lord, let there be peace in the house!’ Mabel exclaimed.

Silence continued. She then went outside the room and came back with a blanket. The cover went over Mary in one clean sweep.

‘Oh, my little one, you’re so tired. Hmmm, you played all day, no wonder.’

Mabel was satisfied. She turned the light off and then left with a smile.

The four children, Alison, Georgia, Kyle, and George; Mary’s playmates, were just on their way home. Together, they were the incorrigible five. It was 8.30p.m, and it was translucently dark with the occasional street light which was dimly lit. As the children passed by number five Eveleigh Street, they chimed a tease:

‘Mary, Mary quite contrary,

Hey, hey… a boo, a boo

Cheat… chee…’

Mabel rushed to the front door, in a swoop the door was flung open. It all came to a sudden end when Mabel screamed out, ‘For God’s sake, leave Mary alone!’

Mabel continued to rant. ‘Children please go home, haven’t you got homes?’

One could hear the patter of feet, as they sped for refuge. Inside, the house was filled with a different sound. It was Mary as she snored into a deeper sleep. Mabel closed the front door, stepped over to the mirror, and then with feminine poise remodeled herself.

Mabel spoke aloud, ‘Thank God, the day is all over. What a day, Amen.’

Her movements were fluid and quick. She was distracted by the eruption of a domestic argument which started next door. Mabel’s ear was almost attached to the partition wall so she heard the commotion loud and clear.

Abraham, the man of the house, was furious, his angry voice getting louder and louder. The sudden change of mood was a frightening reality. Abraham’s temper was in full flight.

‘You f***** bitch, where ‘ave you been all day? Hell man, look at the kids!’

There was an angry pause. ‘God damn it, Marion!’ The outburst continued.

One could hear the crashing impact of furniture being moved about and the sound of breaking crockery. The immediate scene was rife with tension.

Privacy was minimal because there was only a common double brick wall that separated both houses. It was a typical terraced house arrangement, similar to Coronation Street from the TV series in the UK. The wall appeared invisible, because every sound came through quite clearly. Mabel listened in awe as the scene became more violent. The situation was out of control; it was a frightening domestic scenario. Mary woke up in a fright. She behaved as wildly as the situation throwing herself about in a tantrum.

Kami came rushing into the room, then her mother and father chimed together, ‘It’s all right, Mary. Time for your bed, let’s go upstairs.’

Kami cradled his little one and took her straight to bed. The commotion next door was in full swing. A distraught Marion, the lady of the house next door cried, screamed, and pleaded. She tried to pacify the situation.

The children screamed in fear, ‘Mummy, Mummy! Abraham had lost it. It was a fierce domestic battle.

Eveleigh Street was the hub of urban action. There were constant screams of sirens, which in general instilled subliminal fear. It was an indirect urban control infused by the regime. The sirens became louder and louder as the vehicle entered the infamous Eveleigh Street. The sound reached a crescendo, until there was a sudden silence. A concerned neighbour must have called the boys in blue. Well, they did come; the police were right here. Mabel glanced through the curtains of the upstairs window, she had an aerial view. The boys came fully equipped, as they made way through the throng of people. The riot squad kept the peace outside to prevent impending violence. Three police officers went forward and hammered at the front door.

Abraham rushed to the door from inside, and yelled, ‘F*** off you mother f****** pigs!’ He continued his tirade, ‘Shit man, and mind your own damn business!’

The police hammered the door once again.

The police shouted whilst still hammering ‘Open up! Police!’

Meanwhile the house was surrounded; there were police everywhere.

Abraham continued in anger. ‘Hear me you mother of pigs-knock it off. You pigs shut up and go away!

The police again spoke at the door, ‘Can you open the door? This is your last chance!’

Abraham continued obstinately, ‘You, mother of all pigs this is a domestic issue, please leave us alone!’

Abraham ran inside and ripped the television from its socket. Just like the giant Indian carrying the water fountain in the movie Cookoos Nest. Abraham rushed to the door with TV hoisted on his shoulder then tossed the appliance towards the door. There was a mighty crash and then an implosion ad that was the entrance, the officers came crashing through. REDFERN, Australia’s glimpse of the Bronx, the infamous street was familiar with urban warfare. Today the boys in blue meant business.

Abraham was on his way out as a get-away; he rushed towards the back door. He kicked the door, it flew open with a crash. He was through like a bat from hell. He ran to the high back wall and started to scale it. His efforts were useless, he was covered from both inside and outside. One of the Cops dragged his suspended feet. He resisted kicking out like a mule. With a tug he was on the ground, as he continued his resistance, he was like a worm as he squirmed. Within a moment he was as calm as a baby. Abraham was scantily dressed in his boxer shorts and a singlet. A stream of blood ran down his face and legs. As he lay still on the ground they spun him around and then manacled his hands behind his back. They dragged him up and marched him through the house. One of the Cops held on to the handcuffs. He stopped and looked at Marion and the children. He shook his head, and then moved on with a shove. Abraham