God Bless the Outback

By Terry Keane and Leigh Fabian

The stories in this book, are not intended to be a criticism of the way of life that the original inhabitants of this country live their lives.

I have offered my opinions only, honestly and openly and from an observation point of view.

This is my story….sometimes sad, sometimes funny, sometimes frightening and at times controversial.

I’ve worked in many Aboriginal communities alongside our First Nation people over many years. It has at times been challenging but has provided me with an opportunity to learn about their culture and to have a much better understanding of life in these communities.

My story starts from my years as a cheeky kid to a young musician playing guitar in a rock band around South East Queensland and then to my adult life which has been eventful to say the least.

So let’s start at the beginning…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Jul 17, 2022
• ISBN: 9781669830153

Book preview

COPYRIGHT © 2022 BY TERRY KEANE.

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CONTROL NUMBER: 2022911355

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 07/14/2022

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CONTENTS

Foreward

Chapter 1 Hello World

Chapter 2 The Work Force …… What Do You Want To Do?

Chapter 3 Working Life In The Early Years

Chapter 4 Personal Disaster

Chapter 5 I Saw The Other Side

Chapter 6 Starting Over

Chapter 7 Scary Stuff

Chapter 8 Back To The Caravan

Chapter 9 The Roadhouse

Chapter 10 Community :K:

Chapter 11 Humbugging

Chapter 12 Floods

Chapter 13 Busy Christmas

Chapter 14 K2

Chapter 15 Hot Takeaway Food

Chapter 16 Todd River Races

Chapter 17 The Town Of M

Chapter 18 Very Remote

Chapter 19 T Roadhouse

Chapter 20 The Township Of A3

Chapter 21 USA

Chapter 22 Nearly

Chapter 23 Lost in the Desert

Chapter 24 Town Of ‘F’

Chapter 25 I Found Her

FOREWARD

THIS HAS ALWAYS BEEN TEZZA’S DREAM…. WRITING A BOOK. FINALLY, HE IS ABOUT TO START. OVER TO YOU HONEY…. GOOD LUCK, YOU CAN DO THIS.

Deb….my partner from 2001 until 2015.

WE ARE HERE ONCE…… BLINK AND IT’S GONE

THIS IS WHY I HAVE ENDEAVOURED TO DO AS MUCH AS I CAN.

THE FOLLOWING WILL SHOW YOU JUST WHAT I MEAN.

SEIZE THE MOMENT

I am a book lover and a few years ago, I decided that I probably had enough stories to enable me to do this.

I met a man, and whilst talking to him, I found out he was a very well-known published author. I mentioned that it was a dream for me to write my own book, and his words to me made a lot of sense.

He said Terry, we all have a story to tell. The only difference between you and me, is that I put it down on paper and you don’t

So, here we go…. The following pages of this book are a true account of what has happened during my sojourn of this country. Nothing is exaggerated and nothing is fabricated.

This has been my life, believe it or not.

DID I REALLY DO THIS.

A memorable occasion was a day when I was slowly trudging through calf muscle high mud, with no boots, because it was impossible to lift your legs with boots filled with mud and water, whilst armed with a spear.

Yes, it was a spear, and I was with three Aboriginal Elders of a remote Aboriginal community in the far north of the Queensland Gulf. We were hunting giant mud crabs and barramundi, each armed with a wooden spear, made from branches of local trees, honed to a very sharp point, straight and tough. The spear that is!

Being with them and their knowledge of their environment and the ease with which they were able to do this, put me at ease and I felt comfortable doing this with them. However, I said to one of the men There aren’t any of those big bastard crocodiles around here are there? What a stupid question. He replied, Yes Boss, there is one sitting under that branch over there, but him not hungry

I shit myself.

Well, I had speared one mud crab, and even if I had not, I was hitting the trail out of there as quick as my legs could get me out of that mud. I did it in record time, whilst they were having a good laugh at my expense, and I jumped straight into the cabin of the four-wheel drive Toyota and shut the door. I was not getting into the back of the vehicle as I have seen how high they can jump. Now I am a little adventurous, but not stupid.

They had a good laugh on the way home, back through the dirt tracks till they dropped me off at the shop and residence where Deb and I were working, told me to take whatever barramundi I wanted out of the back of the Toyota. One was plenty thanks, as it was at least 65cm long and I almost needed a wheelbarrow to get him inside. Cleaned, filleted and most of it in the freezer, we had enough to last the rest of our sojourn into the first of many, many, jobs all throughout Northern Queensland, South Australia, The Northern Territory and West Australia, managing Aboriginal community stores, roadhouses, and one Motel in Darwin.

This was the start of my third life, but much, much more of that later.

This memoir is for my children, Daniel, and Angela. When I departed from our family home in 1988, it was only a geographic departure, but was a difficult time for us all and not one that lessened my feelings for them, and hopefully, their feelings for me have not diminished. I found out though, in a very short space of time, that it was not the case, when Daniel said to me at 16 years of age, Wherever you are, is home to me Dad and moved in with me. Angela stayed with her mother, which was the best thing for her to do, but showed me that she still thought her dad was okay.

I love you both, and my grandchildren, Taya, Sofia, Kane and Jack (JJ). Kids, that is in the order of your birth, not your popularity with me. It is also for my long-departed Dad who taught me the value of reading for knowledge. Also, for my departed Mum who knew I was in the early stages of the book and wanted to eventually read it. I am sorry Mum, but it did not happen, and it was not only your passing that made me sad, but the fact that I did not finish it in your time. I miss you both very much.

Daniel one day said to me Hurry up and write this book Dad. I literally have no idea where you have spent your time over the last 20 years since I moved to England. Well, Son, sit down and read this.

Also, for my ex-wife Deb, who has prodded and poked me to finally embark on this journey. This is for her as much as anybody, as for 10 of our 17 years together we trudged this wide brown land, doing and seeing things that many of our friends cannot believe we experienced and constantly asked us for stories of our experiences. Not many women would do what she did.

Let us go back.

CHAPTER 1

HELLO WORLD

Born in Brisbane in February 1950, to the most wonderful parents, Tom and Amy, I had a brother Geoff, 6 years of age when I came into the world to annoy him, and two years later, Marilyn arrived. I am told I was a horror to them both, a lot of it I cannot remember, so I cannot verify any of it, however Mum always said, You were a little horror and Marilyn readily agrees.

I suppose the fact that Mum has always said that she told a little white lie about my age, fudging me up to five when I was only four and sent me to school a year earlier than she was allowed, proves that was true. Something she could not get away with now.

Peace at last was what she said.

She told me, that regularly when she was hanging the washing out on the line, that my sister was in the washing basket, and I had to be tethered to the clothesline so I could not wander away. That was not always successful though as she would look around and I was gone. Sometimes, found wandering up the road with local workmen saying they saw me go ‘that way’ and other times she would find me sitting with them sharing their lunch. Could that be true?

I didn’t know any better, didn’t care. I had my schoolbooks stolen on the first day of school and was terrified to tell Dad, but he was so calm, even though I now know that they could little afford for that to happen, there was no panic as far as I know. He had this attitude all through his life of never panicking. He used to say to Mum you worry because you have nothing to worry about. Typical Dad.

I wish I inherited that from him. I do remember once, he used to get the same number in the Golden Casket (Now Gold Lotto) every week allotted to him, and one week, he missed first prize by one digit. His response, Oh Well, the winner must have needed it more than me. I would have had a different response if it were my ticket.

He had a sense of humour, and I am so glad that I have inherited that from him. The story goes that he and Mum, would play cards with their friends regularly, because they could not afford to go out. I was not around in those early days, but occasionally Mum and her friend, would go to the city on the train, to go ballroom dancing. Mum was a teacher, and Dad and Bluey (his mate) would stay and mind the kids, as was their preference. I do not know if they had a few strong drinks while the girls were out, but from what I remember of Dad, he was a light drinker and may have been a little different in his early days in the army.

Apparently, one night, they waited until the girls were walking down to the train station and they followed them. They waited until they stepped into the old wooden carriage of the train which was about to move out of the station. Dad and Bluey ran to the door of the train as it was moving away from the platform, held the kids up, (I imagine one of the children was my brother Geoff) and their own offspring and shouted, that’s alright, you two go to town and have a good time, you can go dancing and drinking, we’ll stay home again and mind the kids and turned and left. Well, apparently Mum and her girlfriend, whose name I do not know, were so embarrassed by this stunt that they had to get off the train at the next station. That was Dad’s sense of humour, and I am happy that I inherited that gene of his. I quite often must check my Birth Certificate to make sure my middle name is not Bastard

Another thing my Mum told me that Dad had done, was that one day at the Brisbane Exhibition, which is a giant fair held each August. Dad (who was in his army uniform) and my Uncle Fred were on a ride while Mum and Aunty Norma stayed on the side to watch. Mum says that two American Sailors saw the girls standing alone and approached them and started chatting them up. Mum says that Your Father jumped off the ride and walked over to them and punched one of the sailors to the ground and said, Get away from her, that’s my wife. I never saw that side of him, but there were a couple of times when I was agitated and about to go a round or two with somebody, and Dad would say, Son, don’t, it’s not worth it.

One great thing I inherited from Dad was his love of reading. I cannot get enough of books; I love reading them. He used to say to me Read everything, you will learn something from everything you read. He was right. Many years later I entered an audition, to enable me to be able to become a contestant on Sale of the Century. There were about 100 of us seated in this room to answer fifty questions. If you got twenty-nine correct, you were on the show. I got twenty-seven. Thanks Dad.

Primary school was nothing special for me except a girl called Susan in Grade one.

How a grade one boy, thinks a grade one girl is special is beyond me, but there it was. She didn’t even know I existed. Maybe I should have been paying more attention to my books which were stolen, rather than watching her.

Susan and I went through Stafford Primary School together and then on to Kedron High School. Sue still did not know I existed. Primary school was a blur. I only loved going on Fridays because we played rugby league in those days. I am proud to say I captained my school in that sport. I just made it through, just passed my year eight before the move on to the big time in high school. My year of 1962 at primary was the last of the year eight classes being part of primary school before the grade 8’ers became part of high school. I thoroughly enjoyed the sports days at primary, enjoying breaking the school record for broad jump (now called long jump), 13 foot, 6 inches and tearing a hamstring doing it. That record held for, I think, ten or so years.

I was proud to captain my rugby league side, playing half back in the 4 stone 7lbs team, representing the school, and loved leading them out onto the field playing at Kalinga Oval every Friday afternoon.

4 stone 7lbs, what is that? About 40 kilos, oh so far back.

KEDRON HIGH SCHOOL

High school, first day, was a little scary, after 7 years with all your friends, some of whom went to Kedron with me, a lot to Everton Park, and some disappeared. I think two went to Westbrook detention centre for wayward boys. Or deserved to go there for a little discipline.

I was asked What course would you like to do Keane?

Is he talking to me? I don’t know what course. I’ve never been here before.

Here was, my grade 8 Teacher at Stafford Primary, now one of the masters at Kedron. At least he was a familiar face, but with his piercing eyes, and his greased back hair, and now wearing a tie. What was this, a promotion for him and now he must wear a tie?

Sir, I said, where are all the kids from grade 8 going?. Well, Keane. he said, most of the boys are doing a manual arts course. What is manual arts Sir?"

Look, I know the difference between a hammer and a screwdriver, but do not ask me to use one.

Alright, Keane, would you like to do a science class. Oh dear, this is getting worse, this was 1963, man had not landed on the moon yet and this guy wants to know if I want to be a scientist.

No sir, I said. Well then he said, It looks like you can go into the commercial course.

What’s that Sir? English, Math’s A, Math’s B, French, Geography, Typing, Bookkeeping and Shorthand he answered.

Oh! Okay, that’s sounds alright And, by the way, I knew there was a certain Susan doing a commercial course, so that sounded fine to me. At least she knew my name now. Progress?

High school was also a blur, but I do remember that my French teacher, whose name escapes me, went into the nunnery after we finished our year, and our Geography teacher retired.

I passed the other courses, with just a C for each subject. C being about 60%, but, hey, I made it. How I wish now, with all the travel I have been fortunate enough to do, that I had paid more attention to the subjects that I failed, French and Geography.

And what good were bookkeeping, shorthand, and typing going to be to me? Many years later, Bill Gates, would invent these computers and now, touch typing at 65wpm is my speciality. Like riding a bike, I never forgot.

With a pass, and just a pass of 6 ‘C’ s for my Junior (Grade 10) year, Dad said to me. I suppose you don’t want to go on to Senior. (Year 12). No Dad. I think he was as pleased as I was. At least I would be able to contribute some money to the household. I cannot remember the amount I was asked to pay per week towards my keep, although I probably thought it was too much and knowing him, it wouldn’t have been much at all.

I was always someone who would like to do it my way. I do not mean that in a way that is I am in charge, just that I was unconventional, and as I am told by friends now, at the age of 71, I apparently have not changed.

No harm was ever done to anybody, only that Mum and Dad went grey much earlier than they should have.

As kids, I didn’t know any better and as far as I was concerned, we had everything we needed. Sport was a big thing for us at that stage of my life. I am talking before television came to Australia and before the obvious mobile phones, smart television, and social media etc. We had our push bikes; we made our own go-carts to race down the hill and we did not mind skinning our arms and legs when we came off these things in an accident.

We played sport every afternoon in the streets after school. The one rule was that if you were not home before the streetlights went on, you were in big trouble. I always made it…just.

We played football in the Winter and cricket on the road in Summer, an early version of Packer’s One Day Series.

At the end of the street, which there was a T Junction, and one day something hilarious happened. You see, Mr and Mrs C lived at the end of View Street, Kedron, which, if you went straight ahead, you would have landed in their lounge room. We were kids and things did not stand out to us; we were just not that street smart. One day, Mr C was walking home, carrying something under his arm, in a bag. Good afternoon boys he said, Hello Mr C we replied.

He opened and closed the gate, walked about six paces, then up the three front steps and opened the front door and went inside.

About ten seconds later, we heard yelling from within the house. The front door burst open and out came Mr C. We heard Mrs C yelling I’m sick of this, and down the steps he came running. As he opened the front gate and was running out so too was Mrs C who let fly with a papaw. Now, she should have been nominated for the shot put in the Olympic Games because that papaw hit Mr C in the back of the head as he was running through the front gate and smashed into a hundred pieces all over his head. He fell to the ground, so good was the throwing arm of his wife. We soon learned that he was regularly pissed. Thanks for the show, Mr C.

In those days short crew cuts were the thing of the day. I desperately wanted one and Mum would not allow it. Now, I may have been six or seven, I am not sure, but my brother and his mate Dave were commandeered to take me on their pushbikes down to the barber shop at Kedron. It was the old-style barber, with the barber’s pole outside, and not the style of haircut you would get today. Geoff and Dave were goading me to get the banned crew cut. You chicken, go on, get a crew cut

Mum will kill me I said.

Chicken came the reply.

Don’t call me a chicken.

Next please, said the Barber.

What would you like Terry asked the Barber.

Crew cut please and as short as possible

I just wanted to let them know I was not a chicken. Well, they nearly fell on the floor in shock.

It was on the way home on the front of Geoff’s bike that he and Dave started to