Calypso Summer by Jared Thomas

Take the Blanchetown Road just out of Port Germein and then take the third left. The house is at the end of the dirt track.
    The other passengers must have thought I was a freak when I stepped off the bus at the Highway One and Port Germein intersection because there was no one waiting for me when the bus took off. I just stood there by the edge of the road for a while. I wasn’t sure if the Blanchetown Road was to the north or south so I started to walk into Port Germein to ask for directions.
    It was only a kilometre or something to the centre of town but as soon as I got walking, the sweat started dripping. It was still pretty much morning but the heat was dry and I could feel ittearing into me. I heard a car coming up from behind so I turned to watch it approach. It was an old beat-up gold van. It backfired and sounded like shit.
    The van slowed down and then pulled over to the side of the road in front of me. I started walking past it and this old blackfella stuck his head out the window. ‘Where you going?’ he asked.
    â€˜I’m looking for Aunty Janet …’
    He looked at me for a while and then said, ‘Well, jump in and I’ll take you to her. I’ve just got to grab a few things from the shop.’
    I walked around and hopped into the van. The old fella had this huge rock hard gut that pushed up against the steering wheel.
    As we drove along with the van making a racket, the bloke didn’t bother striking up conversation. He kept looking at me kind of weird though and I wondered if I’d made a mistake getting in. I mean just ’cause we’re both black doesn’t mean we should trust each other does it?
    The old fella pulled into the Port Germein service station and got out of the van without saying a word to me. So I just followed him. He grabbed a carton of milk, and eggs, went up to the attendant and paid for the things without the shopkeeper saying a word. I wished I could do business like that.
    The old fella walked out of the shop as I grabbed a sandwich. He was revving the shit out of the van when I opened the door. As we started moving I took the sandwich from the plastic container and bit into it.
    â€˜Shit sandwiches eh?’ the old fella asked.
    â€˜It’s alright,’ I said before taking another mouthful and the old fella went up through the gears as we travelled out of town.
    â€˜So how do you know Aunty Janet?’ I asked.
    â€˜She’s my niece.’
    â€˜Really? She’s my grandfather’s sister’s daughter,’ I said, feeling good that I was meeting a relative.
    â€˜I know,’ said the old fella just chuckling a bit.
    â€˜So that must make you my great uncle.’
    â€˜Yeah, I know that too,’ said the old fella, ‘Uncle Al.’
    â€˜Good to meet you Uncle,’ I said.
    Then a moment later he turned onto a dirt track and said, ‘There’s a meeting going on at Aunty Janet’s. Just wait on the porch until it’s over.’
    The van rolled through an old farm gate, up the drive to Aunty Janet’s house. The house was set on a large block, at least ten times bigger than a city block. Some geese crossed the dirt drive as the van came to a halt. There were plants everywhere in the yard. I didn’t know what type of plants they were but I thought they must be important as they were set in rows. Al jumped out of the van and I watched him walk into Aunty Janet’s house. I was glad for the lift but it would have been good if he’d told me what the meeting was about and how long it would take.
    I walked over to Aunty Janet’s porch where two really old Aboriginal men were sitting. They were like ninety years old or something. I’d never seen Aboriginal men that old before. I nodded as I went to sit down on the edge of the splintery wooden floorboard veranda and the old fellas nodded back. I sat there looking at the trees spread across the property. Some crows and