Chapter 18 A European influence

  
                                                           CHAPTER 18  A European Influence

Not pausing to think of the work load my mother carried, nor the fact that she faced a heavy responsibility for a family of five with no electricity from hour to hour every day, my father indulged another idea which created more work for my mother.

 About the time that Owen came home from the hospital, Carlo came to live with us. At twenty-one years old and straight from a poor family in Italy, he knew no English, so in order to establish communication, it was necessary for my parents and Larry to learn a little Italian. With the assistance of a phrase book, and lots of impromptu theatrics, little by little, we started communicating. But although he was there to work and to learn the business of farming, we had some hilarious times together. He and Larry always worked together and became good mates.

 Carlo was short for a man, about 5'8", and had blonde hair. We thought Italians were all dark haired, with dark eyes and that lovely smooth olive skin, but Carlo informed us that the blonde haired Italians came from the north of Italy. It was obvious he felt the northerners were somehow superior to the southerners!

 As his language and reading skills improved, Carlo began to thumb through the dog-eared magazines that Larry and Dad read. When Larry purchased through the mail, a set of muscle strengtheners, Carlo confessed he had always been self-conscious about his short stature, Envious of Larry's new equipment, he found an advertisement for apparatus that was designed to increase a man's height. Dad chuckled but told Carlo to go ahead and buy it if he wanted it. On arrival at the farm it turned out to be a simple spring arrangement designed to stretch the spine. At least while he was with us I don't remember Carlo ever growing any taller!

 Dad’s bad temper led to a colourful variety of phrases, often corrupting the mother tongue and making it difficult for Carlo to progress with his English.

 One favourite was, "There's no bloody doubt about it!" Caught in the grip of odious impatience and frustration, these words were spat out at speed and volume.

 I suppose to Carlo's uninitiated ears it sounded like a strange jumble, but one day he got the idea that Dad was accusing him of shutting the gate. 

 He appealed to Larry quite distraught, "Laouie, I no shut the gate. What you father say...I shut the gate? I no shut the gate!"

 Larry couldn't understand and shrugged it off, but some days later when Dad vented hot wrath again, Carlo rushed up to Larry and exclaimed in a hurt and agitated voice, "Laouie, Laouie, you hear?  You father say, I shut the gate!  I no shut the gate!"

 At last Larry understood and he burst out laughing. He went to Dad straight away and explained Carlo's dilemma.  Unable to help himself, Dad joined in the laughter and reassured Carlo he was in the clear.

 Dad loved cultivating sorghum, and grew about 400 acres that he and Larry worked  hard to produce. When all the weather conditions came together, the beautiful crops of brown grain were something to admire. Unfortunately, the grain attracted huge flocks of  colourful lorikeets and other parrots, and in a few days they could decimate several acres of the crop.

 Larry was a good shot with a rifle, and before long learned to shoot off the wing feathers of the birds in flight. Generally when they came down in the grass the boys were able to catch them for their growing aviary, and they were otherwise unhurt.

Most of the birds were scaly breasted green lorikeets, green birds with flecks of yellow on the chest--we called them greenies-- and they flew around in flocks of thousands. There were also a lot of beautifull blue/yellow/orange rainbow lorikeets--we called these blueys. There were a few quarions--now called cockatiels--crimson wings, and king parrots. The aviary became a real show place for visitors. Larry cut large tree limbs for the birds and they were fed grain and water.

 One day as the boys surprised a flock of parrots which immediately took to the air in a flurry of flapping wings and loud screeches, Larry lifted his rifle to take aim, and Carlo shouted excitedly, "Shoot ‘im in the fly, Laouie! Shoot ‘im in the fly!"

 Since then I have learned the great personal satisfaction that can be had by feeding wild birds from a feeder. One time when Mum was holidaying with me at my home in Brisbane, we stood together watching the flocks of lorikeets around a feeder that I had hanging in the overhanging limb of a close-by frangipanni tree.

 Mum remarked sadly, "To think we kept them in cages, and we could have fed them like this."

 When Carlo decided he wouldn't be able to work one day as he was sick, Mum suspected his stomach ache had elements of fantasy. She administered help in the form of a laxette, which was a tiny block of chocolate divided into little squares. These were potent  little aperients for constipated children. Having a keen taste for chocolate, Carlo took it eagerly.

 But when Mum inquired the next day about his tummy trouble, he hurriedly replied, "Ooh, no no, no more sick! No more sick!"

At this time Dad also had a group of Italian men come to the farm to build a new pig run. They arrived on the train in Green Springs and he drove them out to the farm and left them gathered together in the shed while he went away to work. Mum and I were alone in the farmhouse. After a while we heard loud arguing coming from the shed, and Mum watched surreptitiously through the kitchen window. One of the men seemed to be at odds with the others, and he constantly inclined his head toward the house. There was no way of interpreting their angry foreign speech. These men had come straight from the farms of Italy and their ways were unknown to us. Terrified, Mum feared as much for my safety as for her own. 

 Crouching in front of me, she took me by the arms and implored, “Run down the road to Patterson’s house!”  

I was too scared,  and declared, "No, Mummy, no!  I want to stay here with you!"

 Fortunately the voices gradually died down and Dad soon returned and took the men away to their camp.

 He thought she was exaggerating. “Arr, you worry about nothing, Peg.”

 But Mum was no fool. She had a way of summing up a situation in a flash, something I'm afraid I never inherited. And while she was a smart judge of character, she also had a keen sense of humour. In any case, the Italians were only there for a few weeks, and strangely, Carlo refused to mix with them.

 I think Carlo was with us for two years, before he made the decision to leave and build a life of his own.