Omar Musa - Here Come the Dogs

‘I was a teacher. A poet, too.’

Aleks is too lost in his own thoughts to register Gabe’s words. He spreads his arms out as if to balance himself then stands up, gymnast-like, before leaning against the bunk. ‘I wonder. I wonder.’

‘I’ll see my own homeland soon enough. Once I finish my sentence.’ Gabe looks away and coughs into his hand; then, with a teacherly, inquisitive tone, asks, ‘Sorry for my ignorance, but what is a Macedonian? I only know Alexander the Great.’

‘Good start.’ Aleks smiles then scratches his temple. ‘Ah, brother. It depends who you ask. The Balkans is no easy place to get your head around. Ask an Albanian, a Maco, a Bulgarian and a Greek and they’ll all tell you different shit.’ His voice becomes fervent. ‘People have tried to fuck us over again and again, whitewash our history, steal our land.’

‘Like the Aborigines?’

Aleks wrinkles his nose. ‘Dunno. Never thought about it like that. Nah.’

They sit in silence, but it’s comfortable now. Somebody is yelling, far away and behind that is the sound of a high wind, a great river of turbulent air. Aleks thinks of Torture Terry, that now he is on the outside, somewhere, wreaking havoc on the population.

Aleks draws the bead from its hiding place in his sock. He rolls it between his palms as if it is a piece of dough, and he imagines it becoming larger and larger, as big as the planet Earth itself. Gabe observes him.

‘What is that bead? It’s very beautiful.’

Aleks looks up sharply. ‘It’s. something I’ve had for a long time, brother.’ He turns it and the gold flecks throw little speckles of light on his knees. ‘I done something very bad to get this bead.’

He thinks of the day he first saw it. A woman named Stephanie had moved into the flats above Aleks and below Jimmy and Solomon. She had a little daughter with her named Juliet who Jana Janeski got along with very well. Stephanie was from Sarawak, and was Malaysian-Chinese. When she was cooking with belacan (prawn paste), Aleks’ family was making pickles and the Korean family next door to them were making kimchi, Grace would hold her nose in mock disgust and say, to each of them, ‘I can’t believe you can eat that stuff!’ But she got along enormously well with Stephanie; in fact, everyone did. She was famously resourceful and would take broken tables and chairs from skips and make them brand new. And she was a storyteller:

‘This is an ancient bead. It was made in Venice, nearly a thousand years ago. Back then beads were traded across continents — Africa, Asia, Europe. They were beautiful, durable, easy to transport. Something’s worth is not just its monetary value. It’s what it means to its owner. But it is beautiful, no? See the gold flecks inside the blue. This bead was in a chest that had taken a long journey and it was the only one that survived. You can hold it if you want to. When they first got to my country, the land of my birth, Borneo, the tribes people coveted them. To the tribes people, the beads meant wealth, standing and power. The most valued were named lukut sekala amongst the headhunting tribes. These ones were worth the same as a man’s life.’ The same as a man’s life. Aleks’ eyes widened as she said that and the bead fell into his palm.

She said that she was going to give it to Juliet on her sixteenth birthday. Juliet, who would one day become Jana’s lover, who Aleks would strike again and again out of shame, from whose neck Aleks would seize the bead. The sounds of beatings were common in the flats then, punctuating the night like horn stabs on a beat, but this one was different. Aleks’ first true transgression.

‘We have all done bad things in this life. Sometimes, they can’t be helped,’ says Gabe.

‘I wonder. This one, brother, this one could’ve been. But there was something pushing me towards it. It’s like something was holding my hand when I did what I did. But once I got my hands on that bead, I couldn’t let it go, like it holds all my badness, like magic .’

Gabe runs his right thumb over a thin scar that passes from the centre of his forehead, around an eyebrow and down to his chin, level with his lips. ‘When I was on the plane here, it was like hell. My first plane trip ever. But then, as the plane got lower, I saw trees and flowers and green squares and blue rectangles. I later found out they were swimming pools. Sydney summer — the air, the sky. For a second, I thought that my life had been transformed. Then a man in uniform appeared and said, “Come this way, sir. It’ll only take a minute.” That minute turned into ten years, like magic .’

A bird cries in the distance, though it could be a hinge.

‘Do you think people can change?’ says Aleks.

‘It depends.’

‘On what?’

‘On whether life lets them.’

Church

Fresh slacks,

black-mirror shoes,

scratchy collar,

shaved neck.

Patience.

I sit in a pew at the back.

The service is in Samoan

so I can’t follow,

but the hymns are lovely.

No greater pressure

on a Samoan than to be religious, ay?

Someone slides in next to me

and begins to translate the service

into my ear.

It is Viliamu,

a distant cousin.

Most of the Samoan fam

went to Brisbane and Liverpool,

but there’s a few in the Town

and he was always my favourite.

He doesn’t look surprised to see me,

even after all these years.

A little heavier set but still

good looking and fresh skinned.

That’s what no drink, ciggies or drugs does, ay?

I knew I’d find him here.

My palms are sweaty

and I can’t stop thinking

of the way American rappers say ‘chuuuuuch!’

The sermon:

‘Even the wilderness and desert will be glad in those days.

The wasteland will rejoice and blossom with spring crocuses.

Yes, there will be an abundance of flowers

and singing and joy!

The deserts will become as green as the mountains of Lebanon,

as lovely as Mount Carmel or the plain of Sharon.

There the LORD will display his glory,

the splendour of our God.’

There is thunder and lilt in the Reverend’s voice,

a rapper-like flow that builds and builds.

‘With this news, strengthen those who have tired hands,

and encourage those who have weak knees.

Say to those with fearful hearts,

“Be strong, and do not fear,

for your God is coming to destroy your enemies.

He is coming to save you.”

And when he comes, he will open the eyes of the blind

and unplug the ears of the deaf.

The lame will leap like deer,

and those who cannot speak will sing for joy!

Springs will gush forth in the wilderness,

and streams will water the wasteland.’

Sunday lunch

The Reverend Timothy Kevesi

has hands as dry as blotting paper,

wrinkled in the forks.

I tried to excuse myself

but he insisted I eat.

His wife mentions

‘Jesus’ and ‘The Lord’

at least ten times

over the delicious array of foods

donated by the congregation.

She and Viliamu

do most of the talking.

I listen quietly,

but catch the Reverend looking at me.

His voice rich and steady:

‘You look so much like your father, Solomona.

Not just the face, the spirit.

It’s uncanny.’

I pounce in the carpark

‘Cuz, I need your help.’

A quizzical look from Viliamu.

‘Course, uso. Anything.’

I begin to explain about

Amosa’s All-Stars,

the kids,