Jade compresses her lips in an effort to maintain the stealthy silence. Pressure builds inside her flushed cheeks but the tickle in her throat refuses to subside. The inevitable exhalation escapes as a sharp cough. The sound echoes over ancient boulders lining the red walls of the almost dry creek bed. Her body hardens as though staying still will somehow make it invisible. By design her safety-orange work shirt makes camouflage impossible; although almost every other hue of orange is rusted onto the outback landscape looming around her. Jade’s only desire at this moment is to evade detection. She has come too far in her plan to be exposed now.
Under an arch of blue sky a jam tin sits nestled in the dirt. Corroded with age it is well concealed against the trunk of an old salmon gum. The irony is not lost on Jade who nudges it with her dusty work boot, too anxious to dare peer inside. She has done well to hide it from the steely eyes of the elders. It was ingenious to use the innocuous looking vessel. Even if a passer-by saw it they would probably mistake it for rubbish.
For the next few minutes this jam tin is Jade’s most precious possession -- its content holds the power to change her future. Jade would describe the situation from a different perspective: She would tell you this mission as an effort to put her life back on track, restore it back to how her life should be, revert back to her plan, it is after all her future.
This dalliance will only increase the likelihood of getting caught. Procrastination is foreign to Jade but at this juncture it seems right; her usually determined hand reaches slowly providing one last chance for the mind to reconsider.
The water is flecked with glossy red seeds the size of a thumbnail – but their pointed ends differ from the blunt chewed stubs now grasping the tin. She has taken up nail biting as an outlet for the nervous tension pulsating at the forefront of her thoughts every moment for the past six weeks.
Dipping her fingertips in the warm water fails to register on her pale skin. Floating seeds brush past her hand as she tries to skim them from the surface. They seem determined to avoid capture. One by one she flicks these rejects down onto the ground with increasing agitation.
Now with the last of the junk gone her hand hovers just above the water’s surface; rhythmic dripping from the index finger causes it to ripple. Staring hard she wills the water to reveal the treasure hidden below but the unsteady hand causes more disturbance. The water refuses to cooperate and instead offers up an unflattering quivering reflection of two blue eyes in deep concentration; the stern face of a fair white woman framed by strands of fine blonde hair, worked free from a severe ponytail tied at daybreak; and along her neck a vein pulsating with agitation.
The ball of anxious heat in her chest dissolves a moment later when the water clears to reveal more seeds settled in a neat row on the tin’s bottom. The tight mouth in the reflection gives way to a broad smile of uniform white teeth. If three seeds had not sunk she would have had to repeat the smoking and soaking process again tomorrow in order to gather a sufficient dose of this special bush medicine.
Cupping her upturned hand to serve as a sieve she pours a narrow stream of water. Falling to the ground it darkens a perfect circle of orange dirt to chocolate brown before being sucked into the earth’s parched depths. Six plump red seeds rest cool against her palm, their smooth outer layer glistens in the fading yellow light.
Discarding the two smallest seeds she grind them into oblivion under her rubber soled work boot. She does not want to leave evidence lying around.
A glance over her shoulder confirms she is alone to propel three of the remaining choice seeds into her greedy mouth.
There is no reason to hesitate. During the past two weeks every waking moment has been consumed by the desire to reach this place, this precise point in time.
One deliberate swallow whisks Jade closer to achieving the goal.
Wallowing in the tremendous sense of satisfaction her chest swells with a deep inhalation of warm dry air so pure it is bereft of scent. Across her back the swathe of orange fabric striped with high visibility tape billows like a sail caught by a freak gust of wind. The following audible exhalation brings a sense of peace. Muscles running down her neck, across her shoulders and length spine relax for the first time in weeks leaving her lighter, taller.
Finally, a moment free of the gnawing heaviness and dread.
Pressing the last seed deep inside the cotton lining of her trouser pocket, a steady rhythmic pat confirms its presence with a sharp prick into the thigh muscle. The involuntary nod is familiar to her, it comes from the pride of completing an important task – it has been a long time between nods and Jade has been looking forward to this moment as a new start.
From this point onward she has vowed make better decisions; to take back control of her life and never surrender it again to any man.
Retracing my footprints back towards the campfire she is conscious of the amount of time she has been absent from the group but pauses to soak in the view, never tiring of the meandering orange-red dirt stretching to the horizon. She allows her heels to rest heavy onto the earth’s surface, resisting the urge to hurry on. The first evening star appears, hovering above the clump of spinifex directly ahead, both bodies motionless. A smudge of moon sits to their left. She appreciates the stillness of the scenery; it is a landscape at rest.
Now conscious of staring her shoulders roll inward. A body recoils at the mind’s accusation of voyeurism. This place does not belong to her. She is an outsider. There are people who would regard a white woman’s presence here as an unwelcome intrusion onto their country. Panic rises in her chest as though she has been caught peering through someone’s window as they ready for bed. Not wanting to invade the privacy of the sacred place she closes her eyes allowing her mind to record the static image, storing it for retrieval later at her leisure.
Her mind conjures up the face of a man beside the spinifex. It is her husband, Leon. She fights against his presence invading her thoughts now. It is too late to factor Leon into her decision. Now he will never need to know.
Opening her eyes catapults Jade back to the present. The view is as it would have been in this place every dusk since the creation of light. Tranquil silence accompanies the immobile terrain. She imagines the silence extending to envelop the entire expanse of orange desert laid out in every direction around her. The still air does not register its presence on her skin. If not for the discomfort caused by her bra being done up one hook too tight she could not be sure time and space is moving at all.
She will be comfortable again soon enough. The red seeds have provided relief for her mind and in the next few days her body will return to its usual proportions.
Raucous women’s laughter permeates her quiet space. Jade’s hands form tight capsules, her nails press deep into the soft palm flesh leaving a row of crescent indentations. She does not begrudge the owners of the howls and throaty laughter the jolting incursion; without them she would have no reason, or opportunity, to be here. Of course NiCorp, the mining conglomerate who employs her, has a stake in her presence too. Without both parties she would be elsewhere feeling trapped in a body betraying her and tormented by a mind unable to accept the changes.
Squeezing water from the cuff of her crumpled orange shirt sleeve Jade resumes her place at the fireside. Only this close can the occasional dull crackle of the fire be detected along with its partner, the familiar stinging smoke which will come to ingrain itself in her hair and clothing over the coming week of outdoor living.
The remnant heat of the day catches the back of Jade’s throat; the energy exerted to scale the sheer bank up from the creek bed and the small ridge lying between the creek and camp causes a burning thirst. Or perhaps it is a side effect of the seeds. Her mind races with possibilities. She had assumed there would be no discernable reaction for six days.
The elderly aboriginal woman who imparted the knowledge about the seeds’ powerful remedy had only done so in passing, to fill the awkward silence as they walked. The woman had been imprecise saying, “Them seeds take not even a week to work.” Jade had not asked any questions at the time. She had not had any questions or thought for a moment the information would ever be relevant or useful to her. She had simply nodded with polite interest, a technique picked up from years spent working with journalists and one she often used to put a stakeholder at ease and encourage them to continue on talking. She had watched policemen using the method during questioning to get clients to reveal too much, but that was back in her lawyer days and she had done her best to stop them speaking.
Rejoining the informal circle of indigenous women Jade reclines on her swag. She must compose herself. She cannot allow her personal situation to distract her from work responsibilities. Jade collected these five women and one child early this morning. They are enroute to an Indigenous Heritage Survey (NiCorp need the traditional land owners’ permission before they can proceed with mining) and although they have travelled all day through the desert their final destination is still four hundred kilometres to the south of where they are camping tonight.
Leaning on one elbow Jade absently sips water from her refilled jam tin. A practiced calm demeanour is effective at hiding the tension coursing through her mind, any sense of respite now over.
Jade’s constant companion is worry and she can feel its shadowy presence has followed her back from the creek. Terror surges from deep within her chest, reaching the surface as a heartbeat audible in her ears. The steady heat building throughout her body is likely to cause the cheeks of her freckled complexion to redden.
Jade repositions herself with her back to the fast setting sun; sure the deep shadows will provide sufficient concealment. If only there was a bush medicine cure for the worry that kneads at her brain throughout every day and refuses to allow her proper restful sleep at night.
In Jade’s absence the old women have been busy preparing a meal on the campfire. The Johnny cakes are ready. Graciously accepting her portion Jade hopes the heavy dough will fill the chasm in her gut. She absently taps the blackened surface with her knuckle; the hollow hum indicates it has been adequately cooked. Jade passes on a wad of spongy kangaroo liver to the woman beside her, still complete. The last thing she needs out here this week is food poisoning. She wants to be able to identify and monitor changes in her body caused by the seeds without any confusion or uncertainty.
Giddy with questions about what she can expect over the coming days Jade considers raising the topic of bush medicine but knows it would only rouse their suspicion. These women did not reach their esteemed positions of authority by being dim minded. Going undetected this week will require complete secrecy and stealth.
Jade absently turns the Johnny cake over and over in her sooty fingers until it is sufficiently cool to eat. The grey crust has absorbed the offensive stinging stench of campfire smoke, converting it into an earthy flavour. Each bite sits as a dry lump at the back of her mouth until she swallows it down with the help of more water.
The women busy themselves with eating. Inside her silent ponderings Jade discovers herself feeling vulnerable, trapped, but unable to do or say anything to alleviate her new and steadily strengthening worry. For the first time in her many years of gypsy wandering she feels alone, in need of support of a female friend, someone who would share and understand her secret.
Throughout years of marching determinedly up the ranks, the hoards of men and a few women she encountered, and passed, up the hierarchy have routinely marvelled at her ability to always put business first. Colleagues admire her apparent ease at taking on the physically burly and professional savvy men in the mining industry; men reputed to be the toughest and most hardened of the species.
Retreating to familiar territory she switches into crisis management mode. Meticulously working through her current predicament she knows, above all, the situation calls for outward calm. A further measure will be to separate herself from the other women at night to avoid detection. That way whatever happens she will have time to manage it privately. If things turn out worse than expected and she needs help, it will only ever be one loud shout across the expanse of desert away. And if things go really wrong the Flying Doctor can be reached by satellite phone. If she turns out to have accidentally poisoned herself any experienced nurse should find the remaining seed in her pants pocket. Even if they can’t identify it or provide an antidote the Coroner would provide a report with the details. She laughs aloud realising the most likely conclusion would be that the reckless white woman had eaten the seeds, mistaking them for food. Jade grunts at the ignorance of white men.
“Sorry, I was just thinking of something funny Pete said the other day,” Jade says, feeling the weight of all twelve eyes cast in her direction.
Now with a strategy for managing the worst case scenario Jade reassures herself everything will be OK. In her mind she has always skipped forward from swallowing the three red seeds to one week later when she is fine, her problem effectively dealt with. She was deliberate to never venture into the precise logistics of how she would come to reach her objective. Her career was in jeopardy and she had worked too hard and enjoyed too much success to risk it with one careless mistake, one chink in her otherwise faultless armour of responsibility.
Regaining confidence in her ability to manage the situation, Jade dares to think about how it might occur. Perhaps there will be a sudden gush, a piercing agonising pain and she will instantly know with all certainty it has happened, her desire achieved. Or perhaps it will be more subtle, with no obvious difference from the usual monthly process. Perhaps she will actually feel a pulling, a letting go, a release. Perhaps there will be a tearing when the parasite finally releases its grip on her insides. However it happens she knows, absolutely, that the event will be greeted with relief.
Rising to add a few sticks to the fire a stinging cramp flickers through Jade’s left hip. She immediately sits where she stands.
“You alright Jade?” asks Cecilia.
“Yeah, I’ve got pins and needles in my foot,” says Jade.
“You white women not used to sitting on the ground, hey?” Cecelia tosses her head in Jade’s direction, her eyebrows raised.
“I’ll be used to it just when it’s time I get home at the end of the week,” Jade tries to make light of the criticism.
“When you go home to your flash NiCorp house,” says Cecelia.
Jade refuses to be drawn in.
“Nah, she’s solid this one. She alright,” says Adele in Jade’s defence. The other women nod in agreement. Cecelia dismisses the white woman with a wave of her hand. An argument would have livened up the evening and given Cecelia a new story to recall next time they passed through here. She winks and clicks her tongue in Jade’s direction.
Jade smiles knowing the old woman’s attempt at stirring up a confrontation was not malicious – the mining companies, and their employees, must be kept at arms length. An occasional conflict helps dampen personal relationships and prevents over familiarity developing. When Jade began her role in community relations she used to take offence but as she learned about the elders’ history with NiCorp their behaviour began to make sense. Every old person has a list of grievances and broken promises made by individuals supposedly representing the mining company. Over the decades items including cars and houses had been promised. Documents to permit mining had been signed. Resources had been dug from the ground. Employees conveniently moved on and the riches were never delivered. Jade is determined to do better.
Jade tries to slow her breath in an effort to rest the site of the sharp pain emanating from her left hip down into the top of her thigh. Anxiety rises in her belly. Her body hardens in anticipation of what is to come.