Tuesday, July 29, 2003
Well it's halfway through the second day of work in the Paed intensive care unit here at the Children's Hospital. It's early days yet.....but at the moment I am keeping my head above the water, but probably bordering on being annoying by asking lots of questions! (non medics: Intensive care is looking after the sickest kids in the hospital - lots of machines that beep). Better go......
Piokiwi 3:24 pm
Friday, July 25, 2003
New poems:
No Juliet
I am no Juliet,
riding the storms of first love.
We had our seasons
to dig with daggers
to lick wounds clean
and kiss them dry.
You tugged
like the sea pulling on the shore,
and I rose to your freshness
like salt-loving sand.
We swayed to the swell of the moon.
And now you have ebbed
and left me dry,
though your lips were warm
when we parted.
I seek a poisoned chalice
To toast those
Who yet cannot accept our love.
But I am no Juliet.
Phaeton’s chariot comes
I look to the light
but shadows remain.
BH 19.5.03
I wrote this some time ago. Many of you will know that my parents never approved of me having a non -chinese boyfriend; after many heated battles, in later years this became a problem that they just ignored and hoped would go away. For me, too, life became easier once I discovered the Chinese Parental principle of "hear no evil, see no evil" - ie even if they knew something was going on, if no one mentioned it they wouldn't have to respond. But now I profoundly regret the fact that I didn't insist they acknowledge Casey's importance in my life. They continue to ignore it, though that doesn't mean they don't support me in other ways.
Peace Negotiations
Our sources indicate
The war may be over
An uneasy truce suggested
By our spies on the border.
After 8 years
Of an all-out conflict
Battles the neighbours could hear
An unexpected event has occurred
Negating all previous hostilities.
Formerly, each side arrayed
Along unclear boundaries
Communication made difficult
By language dissimilarities.
Then followed a withdrawal of troops
A fragile ceasefire
Covert missions
Attempts to decipher code.
Despite peacekeeping missions
No agreement was reached.
But now a natural disaster
Rendering troops invalid
Has occurred, though policies are intact.
I’m ready to sign a treaty. Are you??
BH 14/6/03
After that note, sonething a bit lighter might be in order. I present here a poem I wrote for the Poets in the Pub in Broken Hill a few weeks ago. It was very well received, though when I first started it there were a few startled looks about where I might be going with it!!
The Great Show
Come all ye punters, hear my verse
I promise you, it’s sweet and terse
I’ll thrill you to the very core
So you’ll be crying out for more
Watch me as I lift my dress
A little cleavage, flashing breast
The plebs will gasp in muted awe
As underwear falls to the floor
And now I stand, my skin is bare
I’ll unzip that, to make you stare:
I let the bones, the organs fall
Now just my soul is bare to all
Watch it sparkle, twist and roar
Try to catch it as it soars
Dare to listen as I scream
Then walk with me to follow dreams
But every song must have its day
As I walk off the empty stage
Ask, can you play the poet’s part?
Come take the stand, and show your heart.
White Cliffs 28/6/03
Piokiwi 2:27 pm
Tuesday, July 22, 2003
There are a few things I've noticed about being back in town again. (Of course, I'm milking the "Hi I'm Renee, I'm just back from the bush" line for all it's worth - gives one a certain amount of street cred.) Firstly, in the shopping mall yesterday (naturally, one of my first stops) I was scanning a lot of faces that looked familiar - here in the city you're not likely to meet people that you know, but in Broken Hill, you tended to see someone you knew once every five minutes, and of course you have to stop and say hello.
Also, Nina the Starlet started looking normal once we passed through the Blue Mountains - before that she had looked rather out of place beside the towering 4WDs and campervans, particularly loaded up with Pio the Kiwi in the front making faces and the Kiwi flag rather prominently displayed out the back window (to cover the load up, but we rather enjoyed the idea of mooning the whole of Central Australia with the Kiwi flag as we drove).
Piokiwi 1:04 pm
Here I am, officially a city chick again. The drive back to Broken Hill from Sydney - all 1200 kms of it - was relatively painless due to the fact I wasn't the one driving. I'd lured my friend Gary to Broken Hill with promises of a "real outback experience" - though of course his real job was to cram the Starlet with 6 months accumulated gear and share the driving. However after a desktop computer, breadmaker, video, stereo, blender, 10 paintings, assorted bags of junk, a doona and a guitar went in, we found that I was the only one who could fit into the passenger side and Gary was sure that if we moved the drivers seat forward for me to drive it was certainly not moving back again. In any case, by driving over two and half days we managed to make it in time to see the zoo at Dubbo, which was fun. Had a few close calls with roos though - roo vz Starlet not a pretty imagined sight.
Piokiwi 11:05 am
Thursday, July 10, 2003
I am a little surprised by how much of an attachment (despite all that has happened in the personal life) I have formed to Broken Hill in 6 months. I guess it isn't too much of a surprise, really: it's a place of warm hearted people that have welcomed me into their groups, complete lack of traffic hassles, huge desert spaces and glorious skies. If we could import a nice stretch of coastline and bring it a bit closer to NZ, it would be perfect, really.
But anyway, I had a literary/arty time on the weekend that has just been. I enjoyed the Poets in the Pub, and as well as reading some of my poems, gave them a taste of the great NZ poet Hone Tuwhare. The writer's group presented me with two poems they had written - I had tears in my eyes. No one's really written a poem about me before. Here's the first:
Oriental Tiki
You wander lonely as a Long White Cloud
Across the Great Western Isle
You ended up in Broken Hill
But could only stay a short while
You live your life by metric days
One hundred hours in each
Seen desert sights that sore amaze
Yet still yearn for the beach
You yoyo to the Eastern shore
Whose oceans froth and foam
To gaze out through Sol’s morning door
Where Tasman tides head home
You shared your life and thoughts with us
At times that must have been a trial
You made a difference, not a fuss
Through your poetry and smile
Always clever often cheeky
Always on call never pissed
You’re our Oriental Tiki
You’ll be very deeply missed
Geoff Sanders(with permission).
Piokiwi 7:24 pm
Monday, July 07, 2003
This is the third time in a week that I've had cake-on-the-run for lunch. Damn. Not that I'm terribly busy at other times. Also feeling a little deranged from caffeine consumed to offset the 1 am bedtime and 4 am wakeup call, courtesy of the hospital.
Go on, feel sorry for me....:)
(geez, the above paragraph makes me look like I have extremely bad eating habits. I don't really! Though BH is the kind of place where people tail you around the supermarket just to see what you're putting in your basket...to see if you follow your own advice.)
Piokiwi 7:48 pm
The sunset this evening, from a hill in the South part of town.
At left, you can see the poppet heads (wooden shaft towers) of the Old South Mine, and the dark flat shadow on the right is part of the "line of lode" i.e. slag heap in the middle of town.
Piokiwi 2:14 am
Sunday, July 06, 2003
New poems too:
Search
Shadows skip across my path
But cannot be caught
I cannot find you
Though I look on the face
Of every man
she said her eyes full mourn but do not wait forever
Where are your eyes sparking amusement
pouting lips hiding a tongue
ready with dangerous wit
a smile that brushes my mists away
come have coffee tell me your dreams
Where are your hands ready to pounce
on my weaknesses
the jut of your jaw
and warmth of your prickly Sunday face
you need to go home rest sleep
It is there
I can almost find your embrace
Can you see me
Reaching across the chasm?……
There will be other men trust me
At the edge of my sight
I glimpse your face,
And I am again
Chasing shadows.
Muse
If I had lain there
brain drowned by red tide
would you sit here now
myopic in your grief
smearing turgid words
onto this page?
I think not.
You were never one
to spill your soul in public
nor mould your dreams in paint.
But your limbs made poetry
by their play
your eyes hummed symphonies
your lips sculpted my flesh
your tongue drew the sun to me
how could this perfection
be dust
your work is not yet finished
remain with me
Piokiwi 1:56 am
Had the alarming urge to buy a cowboy hat the other day - obviously I've been too long in the Far West, soon I'll be buying spurs and fluffy dice as well!! Sadly, the goodbyes have already started. Had my last art class wednesday - 2 more paintings completed, one of which is below: Karekare Beach in West Auckland. A place with special significance for me.
Piokiwi 1:51 am
Wednesday, July 02, 2003
Due to complaints there's nothing new to read on my blog (thanks Tim), thought you might want to read the text of diary entries I made while in Bourke several weeks ago. Largely created in my opulent sitting room in the evenings. You may remember I was getting increasingly frustrated to be marooned there, but I had a good time too....of sorts. (since a potential audience was the bosses, certain strong views had to be toned down).
Wkhc Bourke June 2003
Day 1:June 2nd 2003
After a smooth flight leaving Broken Hill at 9am with 5 passengers crammed into a tiny charter plane (and cursory instructions on use of the emergency beacon should we crash en route) we landed at Bourke under overcast skies. A short ute ride later past vineyards and a display centre encouraging people to discover the 'Back of Bourke' (an expression meaning middle of nowhere) and we were in town. The Riverside Motel proved to be an oasis with statuettes, swimming pool, rose bushes and no big headed, three legged dogs in sight, contrary to warnings. There were however three very cute dogs and a cat to welcome us.
After a preliminary inspection of the decorated wooden floors and scented bathroom of my embarrassingly large suite, it was time to head to the school, less than a block away. Initially there was hushed silence in presence of the solemn Virgin statues standing among dewy roses in front of the convent building, but this only lasted 30 seconds. The music hall where we were to conduct our check was up some cleverly hidden back stairs with the old, musty smell ubiquitous to the back of school halls all over the world. Having made it upstairs we found ourselves in a bright area filled with colourful Aboriginal paintings. A feast of sandwiches and fruit soon arrived, followed closely by the arrival of other health staff from Bourke and beyond who were to participate.
We soon got down to the real business of the afternoon, a blow by blow description of the health check. Some of the more memorable revelations of the afternoon included:
· a discussion of whether the Tooth Fairy should receive health funding after a mother revealed that the going rate for having 8 teeth pulled out at one time was $20;
· that some of the older kids, reluctant to go through the indignity of having to pee into a Styrofoam cup, were altering the parent consent forms for the Health Check; and
· Andrew’s colourful description of the mating habits of head lice (the male crawls underneath the much bigger female, grips her front legs then in their passion they both stand on their heads: the mind boggles).
After more rejuvenating coffee we were fortunate witnesses to the St Ignatius school assembly, held outdoors in the netball court, where Year 6 gave a tuneless but enthusiastic rendition of Rocket Man. Nat then gave out the prizes for the best artwork done by the kids for the Health Check. It was then hometime for the kids, and for us, a “dry run” of the health check with some enthusiastic children volunteered by their mothers who were on staff. There was some mild troubleshooting: the opening of the 20 litre bottle of conditioner obtained by Nat; the replacement of the wildly inaccurate stadiometer which claimed I stood 2 metres tall (now I know THAT to be incorrect!).
We then retired back to the Riverside, some to a little enlightening wine and beer, others to books and computers. The planned BBQ became an indoor affair due to rain, and afterwards the dining room became a scene of serious industry as we filled those dilly bags with all sorts of health goodies (pamphlets, badges, magnets, anything Nat had been able to beg off related industries). Faced with a 6.15 am start everyone has made it an early bedtime.
Day 2 – Tues 3rd June
The day of reckoning – huddled over a hot breakfast the sleepy crew at 6.45 am refused to cheer up. However the short walk to the school accompanied by the faithful band of motel dogs started to fire us up and we used the remaining half hour to whip our stations into shape and take “calm before the storm” photographs. Everyone was smartly attired in our very nice Health Check T shirts.
The first kids turned up with clutching dilly bags with one hand, parents with the other. The ear check turned out to be relatively harmless and when they found out that each station meant a new present to put their dilly bag enthusiasm started to appear. The eye check also had nice ladies there though the Lang postcard caused a few puzzled faces, though most could eventually see the star, cat and car. The hair station meant a new (and very stylish) hairdo and then it was the turn of Dr Andrew the muffin monster who could sing “Rocket Man” and also checked your skin. But then it was time for the vampire ladies at the blood station and mostly the emla magic cream worked to numb the skin, but for a few kids this was not enough. Then it was time to check height and weight, and finally the wee test downstairs, which was “gross” but most kids did it anyway.
I was principal Vampire lady though I preferred the title Butterfly Girl. Di and I after a few initial hiccups soon had a rhythm going and at our best was able to see one child every 7 minutes!! However a few memorable moments – when littlies refused the blood test it was usually with nerve-jangling anxiety attacks and I managed to do a spectacular blood splatter against the hall wall in front of a parent while filling a blood tube. A miserable muffin and a full bladder later I felt relieved when Mary arrived to be the reinforcement. In no time it seemed it was 11 o’clock, the last kids were being ushered out, and I was surprised to be told that we had bled 31 children that day!!
Mary and I sallied out armed with digital camera to take photos in the school yard and this proved popular with the kids. A real lunch duly arrived and the dissection of the day had already begun when it was decided to have a break – some headed for the nearest café with chocolate cake while I chose a quiet moment underneath the Bourke Wharf looking over a muddy Darling River. There were graceful white herons and pelicans to watch and dream, though later I was sprung by Mary, Di and Cath looking over the edge and spotting my shoes!!
The afternoon saw us turn the music hall into a scene of industry once again as we tackled last-minute data entry issues and started preparation of a results booklet. All agreed that the day had gone off more smoothly than expected, with some delighted and cooperative kids and their parents. Even those who had had to wait a while with empty tummies had not complained and the teachers had helped to ensure the flow went smoothly.
A little afternoon sunlight was left to me to wander around Bourke central, which turned out to be surprisingly inviting but the presence of bars and shutters on all the shops attested to the unrest which plagues this town after dark. I returned to my spot by the Darling for sunset which was a gentle glory of pink clouds reflected in the river and pelicans sailing serenely through it all. Maybe another painting has started gestation.
Nightime and the group headed for the Port’O Bourke pub which served an admirable Beer Battered Barramundi in a genteel dining room. Must say I am seeing a number of very nice colonial buildings, heavy with antique solid wood furniture. As I type my laptop is resting on a wooden rolltop writing desk with cold Milo in a porcelain teacup beside me. Ah, the life. Time for bed as there’s another ungodly start tomorrow and there’s 40 kids coming this time.
Day 3
Well this morning about 10 am it hit me : a wave of weariness. By then I’d already stuck about 20 kids and the constant pressure to get the vein first time, plus various other snipes, was starting to get to me. My life was becoming an obsession with needles and getting good “stats” with a low number of refusals and failures. The kids were as gorgeous as ever and we’d actually had a great run with older kids and bulgy veins were swimming in front of my eyes. At our best Di and I clocked up an amazing rate of one kid every 4 minutes.
Luckily Mary was able to take over about 11 am and I had a much needed break, even making it to the Wee Stop. Finally it was all over – we had seen 40 kids, they had all departed happily with their bags of goodies and everyone scattered for coffee and lunch. Nat and I went out to see the Back O Bourke centre which turned out to be a teaser of an intro movie about the outback, but no actual display (still under construction). Never mind. The afternoon was spent watching the others working on stats and playing with my photographs of the Healthy Kids Check and some graphics for the personal results booklet.
Also was able to check my email (thank goodness – was starting to get uncomfortable about the fact I am uncontactable here, since the phone is out of action. No emergency messages from friends and family, thank god.) Watched sunset from the wharf, wrote a poem and unsuccessfully tried to murder the mosquitoes stalking me.
Dinner a last-night group affair at the Kidman Way café, very nice chicken although the others complained about there being no desert, the consensus being we had to remedy that at the RSL afterwards. Now it’s feeling “late” (10 pm – old age kicks in fast) and I should go to bed. 30 or so more kids to survive tomorrow – don’t know about my fitness for that.
Piokiwi 7:22 pm
This morning, I had to collect a plastic resuscitation mannekin from the University up the hill as we were running mock emergency scenarios at lunchtime. I bowled up early in the morning, but just as I and the university lady were loading what appeared to be the limp body of a child into the boot of my Starlet another car drove by - no doubt arousing great suspicions (I can look mighty shady in my beanie). There was no nearby parking at the hospital, so I had to carry the limp body across the carpark and in through the front entrance, startling two cleaners on the way, and nearly giving the nurse I bumped into in the dark office corridor a heart attack. The body of a child and two babies in a tote bag have been lying on my office floor all day, and I'm half expecting the police to call.........
Piokiwi 7:14 pm
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