Stunned

Most travellers waiting at the Airport taxi rank present a fairly common demeanor. By this I mean a cabbie can easily identify the regular fliers by their attire, their luggage and general disposition - buggered. Normally on a midweek night at the Airport the overwhelming majority of travellers are business people doing what business people do - checkin’ in or checkin’ out.

Sometimes there are the occasional travellers on private business, either on vacation or visiting family and loved ones. They too are easily recognisable with their attire and luggage contrasting to those of the business passengers.

Then there are the rare travellers who not only have unconventional luggage but exhibit all the characteristics of people who have rarely been to the city or use planes. Standing at the rank they appear totally overwhelmed by the bustling Airport. The lights, endless cars and buses, people everywhere, and the resulting cacophony of noise. In short, they look like stunned mullets...

On pulling up at the taxi rank last night I was greeted by such a party. An aboriginal mother and two daughters were the last passengers left from the most recently arrived flight. One daughter was 2 years old and another maybe 12, 14 or 16 years old. It’s often hard to tell with teenage girls.

They had 6-8 pieces of luggage. ‘They need a station wagon’, I informed the rank supervisor. ‘Well, there ain’t any’, he said, ‘can you take them ?’. I looked at the mother nursing the toddler but she was gazing off into the distance, seemingly unfazed by the situation. In fact she looked dead weary, emotionless and made no acknowledgement of my cab next to her.

‘It’s alright’, the supervisor assured me, ‘the kid’s two and doesn’t need a safety seat’. I wasn’t concerned over this but the amount of luggage. ‘Yeah, righto’, I told him and opened the boot. For the next couple of minutes we struggled together to jam their assorted bags, baskets and stroller into the confined space. As the mother and daughters climbed in the back seat, I asked the supervisor, ‘Where they going ?’. ‘They don’t know’, he replied, rolling his eyes.

Slowly I wheeled out of the Airport whilst they quietly conducted a conversation. Unable to go no further without a destination I pulled over and waited for directions. I was handed an official piece of paper with a list of typed addresses. The page heading of a government authority indicated the addresses were women’s refuges. ‘The third one’, the girl said, referring to an Eastern Suburbs address.

Back on the road I adjusted the radio to give them some privacy. I sensed an air of sadness, or quiet dejection from them. Unfortunately though the radio was broadcasting an interview with a physiologist on how to deal with fractured families at Christmas time. I quickly changed to an easy listening channel but it was playing a broken hearted love song. Once again I flicked channels only to find an pop tune with the repeated line, ‘I’m yellin’, but you’re not listenin’. Great.

Then the two year old starting crying. Probably because she was unable to be nursed after I’d requested she wear a seat belt. I felt lousy. However a bottle of soft drink was produced which did the trick for a few minutes. After which she wailed the tears of an overtired and insecure child. So I was relieved when the mother relented, allowing the child back onto her lap.

Arriving at the destination the mother requested I wait whilst she went inside to check the availability of accommodation. I was surprised this had not been organised prior to arrival. Wherever they’d travelled from, they must have left in a real hurry. An emergency departure.

After a few minutes they emerged to confirm there was a vacancy and I unloaded their luggage to the front gate. Unhurried, reluctant or both, they gazed at the nondescript house and adjacent busy thoroughfare. As I drove off they stood on the footpath with the same air of disorientation they’d exhibited at the Airport. A few hours later I heard a news item reporting a lack of vacancies in emergency women’s shelters. Good luck to them I thought, they’ll need some.

Comments

[phil]

puts into perspective the young graduates working 18 hour days to get ahead, eh? at least they have an ahead.

[Brian Willaims]

How reprehensible that there was no one there to meet this woman and her children, inexcusable in this day and age. The system both official and volunteer let her down badly.
There is more than a good chance they will end up back in the situation that forced them to leave very soon, hope not though.
In a worst case scenario: A neighbor of mine suffered abuse and trips hundreds of Klm to shelters, only to return every time to same situation, she was stabbed to death a few months ago, it still worries me that no one has been charged and she received inadequate assistance from those who were aware of her plight.
In hindsight Andrew, do you regret the stunned and stunned mullet reference? When I left Liverpool and Oz it was used mainly in the derogatory way. But good on ya for taking the fare.

[adrian]

Brian, the 'stunned mullet' reference was admittedly a poor choice but not used as a negative, just a fact of their appearance.