White Ribbons

Across Ocean

At the age of eleven I was taken to the desert. The desert is barren, hot and dry. The sand or as I would call it red dirt, beneath the cracks in my barefoot. I’m sure it would have been quite a sight to see such white skin as we came off the plane. It was such a strange feeling, when I came to this country. The air was just heat, the sun splintering in midday. My eyes were not adjusted to such scorch. Blue like the sky, as blue as the ocean that we had left behind. We flew across the Pacific Ocean, leaving behind salt water, the blue orcas that swam far from view. Blue is a colour that I will always know. I only cried once. And that was when I said goodbye to my family, my grandfather. The bonds that tied us to our country, our customs that would be so far apart from where we would go. How on Easter, with the green grass beneath our feet, we would run and find all the colorful chocolate in our backyards. How the neighbor’s boys would always come around every afternoon, jumping on our two trampolines, and sliding down the hill. On Christmas it would not snow, it would be a sunny day, and the Pohutukawa trees would be blossoming. Red spindles in the branches, they were such a sight. We would go to the beach, dipping our toes into the icy waves. Running up and down the coast. Maybe that’s what I truly missed, what my heart yearned for so many years. When we left New Zealand, it was a choice my mother had asked. I do not know why I said yes so quickly. But maybe I was running from my own pain, grief I did not understand in my youth. But once we left that house at the corner of Nauclea. That would be the beginning of Australia, and the desert.

Landed

We were bundled into what I now know as a Troopy. Yes, if you are not from Australia you would probably be wondering what that was. A land cruiser which is quite fitting, because it definitely was travelling across land. I didn’t notice much when we first arrived. It was midday, and was so bright to see anything but the blue sky, and the rough drought surrounding the barren wasteland called Kununurra. We were dropped off to our new home by my Mum’s new boss, Victoria. Which was quite fitting as we were driving along the Victoria Highway; into the suburb of houses known as Lakeside. No joke. When we stepped inside, it was dark and tiny. I was used to wide open space, and here I was trapped inside walls. It took adjusting to the sun. It must have taken a toll on us girls, to go from being outside 24/7 to now confined to rooms. I didn’t miss home yet, I truly believed we would be going home within a year, two years max. My sisters were both younger than me by 3-4 years. They were attached at the hip and always finding some way to keep themselves entertained. Be it fishing wire around their bedroom, imagination taking them far away on a secret mission as spies. Legos lying across the carpet floor. I escaped into books, it was my solace for a long while. To be able to escape the world I was in-and become someone completely different.

Blue School

There was bliss before entering high school. I entered into blue school- wearing a blue baggy skort and blue sandals. I looked like a misfit, thankfully none of the girls took anything against me. They were all wearing shorts. I was the only girl made to wear a skort by my mother. My mother seemed to always have to make sure I wouldn’t fit in. I remember trying to beg her to buy me some shorts so I could fit in with the other girls, or some shoes which were flowery vans. Of course, she couldn’t do that for me though. This ended up with her causing a scene in the store. I remember being a very anxious child. My parents would make it worse by purposely embarrassing me in public. By shaming me, making me look stupid, making fun of me. My brown hair was always up in a ponytail compared to the other girls that had their mums do braids for them. They were all wearing make-up. I was never allowed to wear makeup. It was this year that I started wearing mascara. The anorexia didn’t start until year 8. When school and my home life would come crashing. The thing is though it never got any better. My home life never got any better, its’ only as I am made to remember everything that it is hurting. And makes sense why I am so resentful and upset. My mother just calls me a selfish drama queen; quote on quote: “your point of view is such bullshit”. She makes me feel like I’m crazy. The truth is my upbringing was not normal...

Part 2 coming if this post can get some feedback. Would be much appreciated :)