Running Over a Chinaman

By Julie Jones

Western tradition has long held that the Chinese are a lucky people, so a Westerner experiencing a run of misfortune is often asked if they have 'run over a Chinaman'.

CJ is one of these people. In fact, friends had often asked CJ how many Chinamen she had run over in her last life. Sometimes, she was asked if she had ever been hit by lightning or if she had been on a ladder when a black cat walked underneath it. The comments we facetious but not intended to cause harm. Yet, with the sharpness of ice, they unfailingly connected to that part of CJ's soul that questioned whether she was to blame, or whether she was in some other way responsible for the tragic events that had unfolded in her life.

Gain an insider's view of how trauma affects an otherwise sunny mind. Walk - or run - through life with CJ as she bounces from trauma to trauma until the day when she finally works out which way is up.

This book is based on fact, written as a novel, and works well as a bibliotherapy text for mental health professionals to use with their clients.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tellwell Talent
• Release date: Jun 28, 2011
• ISBN: 9780980670417

Book preview

Running Over a Chinaman

Julie Jones

A tale about surviving in the

Web of Trauma

MoshPit Publishing

Hazelbrook

an imprint of Mosher’s Business Support Pty Ltd

Shop 1, 197 Great Western Highway, Hazelbrook NSW 2779

http://www.moshpitpublishing.com.au/

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © Julie Jones 2011

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is available in print at

http://themoshshop.com.au/

See Julie Jones’ Smashwords profile at

https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/juliejones

***

Every effort has been made to trace and acknowledge copyright. However, should any infringement have occurred, the publisher tenders its apology and invites any copyright owners to contact them.

***

Dedication

To the Marthas of this world,

for without them

there would be no Evas.

Foreword

For as long as human beings have existed, the seemingly invisible presence of trauma has characterised our existence. Historically, the effects of trauma have long been associated with war, yet the nature of trauma itself has been cloaked in secrecy.

Most people associate trauma with war. The social taboo in discussing trauma appears to have become entrenched following the return of ex-servicemen from the battlefields of World Wars One and Two. It became common practice to attribute what appeared to be bizarre and incomprehensible behaviours to the war. Shame, in tandem with personal and political belief, has traditionally sheltered society from examining the effects of trauma, and the shattering impact trauma can have on the day to day lives of individuals.

More recently, society observed firsthand the traumatised soldiers who returned from the war in Vietnam. Following the American invasion of Iraq, it is significant that the severe effects of trauma have been designated and labelled as the ‘Gulf War Syndrome’.

Severe trauma can happen to anyone. The stigma of being perceived as not coping often compromises any discussion of the profound effects that trauma may be having on the lives of individuals. It is not the fault of the individual and more importantly, it need not be a life sentence.

***

Writing this book has been one of the most frightening and confronting experiences that I have encountered in my life. One night, after waking from a nightmare of physical and mental extremity, I retrieved an exercise book from my desk and just started to write. I wonder now whether that action perhaps stemmed from a desperate need to feel that I still had some control over events that had occurred in my life. Perhaps, randomly picking up that pen saved my life.

My first words were written with a shaky and terrified hand. For many, many nights, the same quivering hand scribbled and tried to define the disturbing, savage images in my head.

For a long time, I was afraid all the time. My hands were frequently clenched and I was always on alert. I compulsively scanned my immediate environment, unknowingly searching out any sign that might predicate danger. I was a prisoner of fear and a gut wrenching sadness that immobilised and paralysed my patterns of thought. I felt a deep sense of shame and disappointment in myself.

Bit by tortured bit, I commenced the process of scrutinising my thoughts and visual torment. Piece by piece, I forced myself to look at the pictures in my head. My resistance to this process was formidable. I was profoundly frightened and any faith in myself had been seriously eroded. I was tangled in the terrifying web of trauma.

CJ’s story is very similar to my own—after all, most people write what they know about—but the fact remains that if you read this story and can identify with CJ, then maybe you will no longer feel quite so alone in the world.

I hope so.

Julie Jones

Blue Mountains, NSW

July 2009

Prologue

Outside the room that separated her family from the rest of the hospital emergency population, CJ paced up and down the linoleum floor. Her face was saturated with unappeasable tears, as she tried to comprehend the tragic enormity of what had happened. Her twelve year old daughter, Eva, had been resuscitated twice; and somewhere, upstairs, doctors worked frantically to save her life.

CJ’s brother, Daniel, paced with her until she suddenly leaned against the sterile wall and inelegantly slid down. The tortured howling began, and CJ tried to suffocate the awful noise emanating from her being. Images flashed relentlessly through her mind, tumbling in disconnected sequence. She heard with horrific clarity the Bali bombs exploding and clamped her hands to her head. That had been just fifteen months ago.

‘How could she have fallen off a cliff, Daniel?’ Her voice was hoarse, a result of unbridled and intense wailing.

‘I don’t know CJ,’ he said simply as he, too, slid to the floor, placing an arm around his sister’s quivering body.

‘What if she dies? What if she dies? It’s been hours and hours!’ Daniel’s silence emphasised CJ’s fear; he too was terrified for his niece.

The social worker peered around the corner. She saw the inconsolable mother and gestured to the cardboard face of the uncle.

‘I’ll take you up now, but you need to expect the worst.’

For a second, Daniel’s face crumpled. He pulled the creases of his face together, then gently pulled CJ up. ‘Don’t forget CJ, Eva belongs to a long line of warrior women; she’ll fight her hardest to live.’

Fiercely, CJ grasped her brother’s face. ‘Tell me she’s not going to die Daniel, tell me that!’ Try as he might, Daniel was unable to conceal the nakedness of his fear. ‘No, no, no, no, no, no,’ sobbed CJ. ‘Sonia, Sonia, save my little girl!’ she cried, over and over.

‘Who’s Sonia?’ the social worker asked Daniel.

‘Sonia was our sister,’ he answered softly, as the tears began to dribble over his lower lashes. He held CJ’s hand tightly and they commenced the long journey upstairs.

In the beginning

1.

Martha Gunn from South Wales, and Samuel Davis from North Wales, migrated separately to Australia in the 1950s. They had to travel halfway across the world before fate introduced them, at the Welsh Church in Sydney. Once aware of each other, Samuel courted Martha with a passion, and they married in 1956.

Martha Davis gave birth to Charlotte Jane in December 1960. She often told Charlotte that she was the best Christmas present she had ever received. Martha had lost her firstborn son when he was only a week old, so she cherished Charlotte.

So did Samuel, by suffering morning sickness from the moment Martha discovered she was expecting. His workmates begged her to have the baby early, as they couldn’t cope with Samuel’s phantom pregnancy.

Following Charlotte’s arrival, Martha gave birth to another girl, Sonia, in 1962.Their brother Daniel arrived a year after that. Charlotte’s two younger siblings found her name too difficult to pronounce, and so Charlotte Jane came to be known as CJ.

Martha described her eldest daughter as ‘very busy’ and from the time that CJ could walk and talk, she gleefully shadowed and harassed her father. Many a time, Samuel had been observed chasing CJ, who was usually managing to keep just one tormenting step ahead of her father.

***

Like other migrant families of the time, Martha and Samuel worked long and hard in order to give their children the best future possible. Samuel spent many hours collecting broken bikes and toys for his children. Skilled with his hands, he spent many hours repairing and painting tricycles, dinkies and wagons, and restoring unwanted swing sets to their former glory. Samuel painted everything in bright colours and his three children had a continuous fleet of vehicles to play with.

Samuel even built the children a cubby house and outfitted it with recycled furniture and writing desks. CJ in particular loved the cubby house. She spent many hours bossing her brother and sister around as they played make believe school. Despite Sonia and Daniel’s squawks and complaints about always having to be the pupils, CJ unfailingly played the role of teacher, browbeating her siblings, in a simulation of what she herself had observed and experienced at real school.

2.

Life in 1960s Australia was still about common courtesies and niceties. CJ, Sonia and Daniel had gone with their parents to visit their elderly neighbour. While CJ had often heard her father describe Mrs Bourke as a ‘malingerer’, whatever that was, her mother was a kind woman who always tried to find goodness in others. So Martha and the children marched next door with their reluctant father bringing up the rear.

For once, Mrs Bourke was upright, indoors, and on her feet rather than lying on the cane lounge on the front veranda with her bottle of ‘medicine’. CJ seized her opportunity. As Mrs Bourke came to the door, CJ positioned herself on the lounge and pulled the prickly blanket up to her neck.

‘I’m Nanna Bourke and I'm veeery sick’, croaked CJ, proceeding to lift the half-empty medicine bottle with the black and white Scottie dogs hanging around its neck. Before CJ could take a sip, her father snatched the bottle from her hands. CJ’s mother was mortified.

‘What did she say?’ croaked Mrs Bourke.

‘I’m Nanna Bourke and I’m a malingerer!’ croaked CJ, as Samuel whipped his eldest daughter off the lounge and out the gate.

Later, CJ heard Martha chastising Samuel.

‘You have to watch what you say in front of the children!’ scolded CJ’s mother. Samuel grunted and muttered something under his breath.

‘And don’t curse in front of them either!’ snapped Martha.

3.

CJ had been in the laundry again. She loved the texture of the Lux soapflakes. By climbing up on top of the wringer, she had been able to reach the box. Suddenly, she heard her father coming, and with a handful of soapflakes, made good her escape. While Samuel searched for CJ, she slipped into the kitchen, hearing her name being called as her father followed. Samuel was in the middle of cooking fish fingers and chips and the fat was boiling away. CJ, hearing his footsteps nearing, dumped the soapflakes in the hot fat.

‘I’m here Daddy,’ she called, ‘I’ll fetch Sonia and Daniel for dinner.’

‘You’re very helpful today,’ praised her father, as CJ watched the foaming bubbles climb up the wall. Samuel turned to check the chips. He looked puzzled and swore under his breath.

‘What the Hell!’ was one of the milder expletives that emerged from his mouth. Still confused, Samuel dished out dinner.

At the table, the family commenced eating. Almost immediately, the children spat out their food.

‘Yuuuuuuck!’ they squawked. Martha tried valiantly to spit hers out in a ladylike manner. As if the answer lay under the fish fingers, Samuel peered at the food and then glanced at the bubbles that were gradually disappearing. He observed the not-quite-closed laundry door across the back porch. CJ pushed the food around her plate. Suddenly, the penny dropped. Samuel looked directly at his daughter. Before he could make any baseless accusations, CJ excused herself to go to the bathroom.

‘I know you have something to do with this CJ!’ boomed her father's voice, following her down the hallway.

4.

The neighbours had made damper for CJ’s mum and dad. Martha and Samuel choked on the taste. Sitting on the back porch, CJ watched with interest as her father gave the damper to the dog. She then watched the dog carry the damper down to the back of the yard and bury it under the leaves. Apparently the dog didn’t like dough either. Casually, CJ strolled down to the leaf pile. She surreptitiously retrieved the much handled damper and took a bite. Yuk. Their neighbour, Mr Bourke, must like this stuff. So, CJ threw the damper back over the fence.

That afternoon, CJ spotted her father talking to Mr Bourke. She sidled up to Samuel just in time to hear him tell Mr Bourke how nice the damper had been. Suddenly, Samuel spotted the vaguely familiar outline of the once dignified damper. With rake in hand, Samuel vaulted the old wooden fence, raking, hastily to cover the damper with leaves.