Erasing Musical Boundaries

HOW MANY WAYS CAN YOU CHIP A COTTON?

I'm on my way to Dalby, my first foreign assignment as a blue-collar worker. I have a sneaky suspicion that I am more optimistic than I should be. But everyone else seems to think this is going to be the worst few weeks of my life and my main mission has been diverted now to merely prove them all wrong.

Dalby is 2 hours southwest of Brisbane, surrounded by towns like Chinchilla, Goondiwindi, Bongabilla, Oakey and Toowoomba. None of which is less than 1 hour away. The ultimate 'hicksville' variety. Farmer Ross is a 45-year-old divorced farmer who has invited me to share his large farmhouse, free of charge, while I am employed there or until I get into town and find something better. My job title is Cotton Chipper and my job specs: to weed 400 acres of cotton paddocks. Dilemma one in prepping for my new position: what do Cotton Chippers wear exactly? Dilemma two: if it is what I think it must be than I am fairly certain even someone as 'creative' with their limited wardrobe as I am will not find any of the 'that' in my backpack. Dilemma three: what if Farmer Ross turns out to be some psycho lunatic with less than admirable intentions? Okay, what happened to being unreasonably optimistic?

Friends of Arna's were kind enough to wait until I packed all of my clothes 'just in case' and was getting on the bus before they showed up with the cotton chipper's uniform. The uniform consisted of two pairs of dark socks, 2 long sleeve RM Williams work shirts with stains to make me look like I've been doing this for years, boots just big enough around the ankles so all the mud and rocks get in (reminding me how important those dark socks were), a pair of jeans (in case the long sleeve shirts don't keep me hot enough), a red bandanna (I can flag down the Cessna before he sprays me with insecticide on acre 375), and very worn leather gloves (just to add some humour to the tan lines). Greg had already given me a goofy straw hat, which I soon found was to help me blend in with the locals and not necessarily to protect me from the sun.

Ready to get onto the bus now, Greg (my brother), Harrison (his 3 month old son), Arna (his wife), Pete and Jenny (the thoughtful friends) are all standing around (or being held as the case may be if you're an infant) seeing me off and wishing me luck. They were trying hard not to laugh at my misplaced enthusiasm, oblivious to the fact that it was due to leaving them all behind for a few weeks. I'm not sure at this point if I'm supposed to kiss Arna and hug Greg, shake hands with Pete, kiss and hug them all…what a ridiculous situation, why do I feel like I'm 12 being shipped off the summer camp? I kiss Harrison and am off to find my bus. Hitting the vending machines on the way I decide to forego the peanut M&Ms for a cigarette once I get to bay #3. Diet Coke in hand, I can't believe I packed my smokes in my backpack, which is now underneath the bus. I'm starving to death and the bus driver has just informed me I can't take my soda on the bus. Why on earth wouldn't they put a sign to that affect on the soda machine? I am not in Kansas any more.

Two hours later was my stop; its a good thing I woke up. I wonder how I look with my goofy hat on. I scan the local talent as I am getting off the bus and spot the man I am sure is Farmer Ross. Why don't handsome, hunky, eligible men become farmers? His first remark to me was about my tan, 'Oh, I've been on the water all week in Brisbane, at the Regatta". God, that sounded pompous. He has probably pegged me as a City Slicker and gives me two days at best. He offers to take me somewhere better than the Mobile station bus stop for some food, the Shell station perhaps? Now I know I really am not in Kansas.

"That McDonalds there will do just fine". He's a nice friendly guy, talkative, polite, and easy going. This should be good; living with a bachelor could be a lot of fun although…Mike was a bachelor but that's a longer story for another time. Maybe I wont have to clean up after myself, I can ignore the hairballs I leave in the bathroom, rinse my plates and glasses for two days before having to actually wash them, leave my dirty clothes in a pile on the floor till the smell wears off and I can wear them again. Just the kind of hang out I was looking for.

"So how long have you been farming, Ross?" If you're interesting, maybe I'll put you in the book I'm writing.

"What kind of sports do you play at home, Beth?" Why do all Australians want to know that and why haven't I come up with a better response yet?

Somehow I doubt "Well I spend every night in the gym" would be exactly the kind of 'sport' they are talking about. Can I really say after a few months of lessons 6 months ago "I ride horses"? I doubt it; he might pull one out of a barn somewhere and tell me to have a go. Can I say, "I'm a runner"? I think most of the runners I know wouldn't let me get away with that one. Maybe those roller skates I had when I was little, the ones that had metal frames and buckles over your shoes…or how about"I love to swim but can't go under water without holding my nose." I finally come out with what I think is a very safe non-committal answer, "I don't really play competitive sports, I just try and keep fit anyway I can".

I arrived on Sunday, and with no work till Monday, I spent my first afternoon sitting on the porch reading, smoking and taking in my new surroundings, watching the heat rise over the dry paddocks creating that layer of haziness that makes everything look wavy and surreal, like a country music videos. I took a nap just long enough to reaffirm the concerns of my new employer that he had hired himself a lazy debutante. "Will be nice to have someone to talk to around here." Uh-oh, he's mistaken me for someone who will keep him company. Okay, but let's keep the chatting to a minimum bub, I'm not the social butterfly you think I am.

Monday morning brought with it what would normally be considered unexpected luxuries but as it was 4:00 in the morning, they became bare necessities. Farmer Ross made me toast and coffee while I tried to bring myself to life. He filled his water cooler with ice water for me to keep in the fields all day, gave me his 4 wheeler Honda to ride around on the property so I didn't have to walk quite so much and asked if I wanted him to bring me a mid-morning snack.

Apparently the nice thing about being the Farmer is that you hire people to do the work and then you only work when you really want to. The other 7 chippers, not wearing anything close to the appropriate costume I had on, were from Dalby and go the University together. Ross was anxious to see if they were nice to me, did they invite me out with them on weekends, did they talk to me?

'No, not really"

"Oh?"

"But I didn't either"

"Oh."

They are very interested in hearing about the soap operas here in the US. They have the same shows but are a year or more behind in the story line so they want to know what is going to happen. I could probably make money on that one but I couldn't really help them out.

The first day was a bit of a disappointment. I wore all my gear, hiked up and down the rows for 8 hours with my chipper (a small hoe) and although I was a bit stiff and sore by the end of the day (1:00 pm when you start at 5:00 am) I didn't get dirty!!! I suppose I should be happy, I made it through without getting burned, bit,or stung, no pulled muscles or broken bones, didn't spot any mice, spiders or snakes and it was so breezy and cloudy I barely broke a sweat. I'm sure it could only get worse.

Day Two proved to be a bit more typical. Ross said I could help him mix soybean seed before I started chipping. Not only did lifting 25kg (50 lb) bags of seed, mixing them with nutri-life and then getting them into the seeder prove to be a bit more challenging and interesting than chipping, but I finally got really dirty. For those of you who have never tried it, the first few times you get anything on your hands you go to grab a rag, then you realise, hey, this is why I have these silly clothes on, so I don't have to worry about getting them dirty, mom is not here to yell at me and I'm gonna have to do my own laundry anyway. Then you start wiping your hands on your clothes and it is so much fun!

When I felt I had proven myself as a good worker who enjoyed learning about his exciting livelihood, I boldly asked Ross when I was gonna get to drive the tractor. Without hesitation, he casually said I could do it after chipping and also help with some irrigation ditches. I think he's decided I'm not the cream puff he first thought. That afternoon I conquered the 'air-conditioned with a killer stereo' tractor. Have you ever driven a tractor in reverse, tried to do a k-turn at the end of a paddock or perfected the art of riding on a hillside without flipping over? Don't try this at home kids. Having proved myself on the big rig, I was promoted to the irrigation dept. where I was taught how to start the manual irrigation process with rubber hoses. It's a little embarrassing at first. Once you get the basic rhythm you give it a few pumps back and forth and when you feel the water ready to squirt out you drop it and get out of the way while it starts flowing. Not as easy as it looks (never is) there is definitely a knack to it and its pretty exhausting when you have so many acres to cover.

I am on cloud nine after day 2, certain I've found my calling.

I came home to find the cleaning lady was here. As she was still around when I got out of the shower I cleaned up my own hairballs. Ross asked if there was anything that needed ironing while she was here. No thanks, I ironed my socks and underwear before I left Brisbane!?

A friend from town shows up for the evening. Derek is apparently an undersexed dirty old man who can't seem to keep his eyes off my chest long enough to take in my answers to his 1.3 million questions but he has brought with him a bottle of Bundaberg Rum and some Coke, especially for me. 'Bundy' Rum is a real Aussie girl's drink. Thanks a lot, I was wondering how on earth I was going to replace all those calories I will be burning every morning.

Days 3 and 4
I can't chip due to rain and insecticide sprayers. I slept in till 6:00 am. We don't do much but visit Ross's other farm and run a few errands. I saw a Koala up a tree on the side of the road. WOW, my first spotting and it is actually in its natural habitat. We get out to get a better look and he climbed a little higher. Me without my camera of course. Farmer Ross took me to Goondiwindi, otherwise known as 'Windi" to have lunch with the people who work for the cotton buying company. Windi is 2 hours South West of here so we keep our eyes peeled for more exotic wild life. I saw a Wallaby skipping away, didn't get a good look but could have reached out and touched the iguana crossing the road. He was black with a yellow stripe down his back and he took up our entire lane of the road. He looked like a baby crocodile. I suppose they are harmless but they look pretty menacing. I must admit, I'm pretty excited about all this wildlife, they actually have wild cockatoos and beautiful king parrots in red, green and purple that just fly wild in people's yards and the woods. Now if we could just get rid of the bugs we'd have ourselves a perfect Continent to take over.

Typically, when we finish working for the day, Farmer Ross is very enthusiastic about taking me out on the 4-wheeler to look for Kangaroos and rattle snakes. He saw a rattler but I missed it somehow and then wouldn't get off the 4-wheeler to help him find it. Silly me!

Day 5-7
Back to chipping. Since Ross said I could make my own hours I decided to work the weekends. Nothing else here to do anyway. Sunday night he suggests getting out and going to the piano bar for a bit of excitement. How was I to know the Piano Bar is in Toowoomba (1 hour away). That is pretty typical here, nothing is close and they don't think anything of driving an hour or two to get somewhere, especially if there is a drink at the other end.

Day 8

Day 9-11
Chipping - finished!!! This is really good as the past few days have been 40c degrees (x1.8+32 remember?). Yes that's right, it's over 100 degrees again. But the end of chipping is not good, as my money earning power will come to an end. Ross lets me stay on for my last 3 days to help on the tractor and getting ready to irrigate again. That is how he will spend his Christmas holiday. Bummer!

Friday evening, we go to dinner with Derek and his lovely wife Allison. It's a very nice seafood restaurant in the local RSL Club (Returned Soldiers League). Derek is full of questions about America, (apparently in search of silly trivia to impress the boys at the Bowles Club) most of which I can't answer.

"Do you have as many Japs over there as we do?"

Well, since I don't know how many you have and have never even considered someone was counting how many we have, how the hell do I know!

"How many meters of rainfall do you get?" What's a meter?

"What is the population in the US now?" Well if there is 18,000 in New York, I suppose you could multiply that by 50 but since I don't fully understand the metric system, that might not work.

"I thought Americans were Bourbon drinkers, not rum drinkers." We pretty much drink anything you all drink, just not nearly as much of it. He was kind enough to show me what an avocado looked like and introduce me to macadamia nuts. I acted enlightened and throughout my own stupid trivia; "Oh wow, I've heard of avocados, aren't they really high in fat?" and "Macadamia nuts…sounds exotic, I bet they are pricey, eh?" I didn't have the heart to tell him we have those things in America as well. It was a really nice evening in the end, but, unfortunately I didn't get away without hearing the same old complaints and one-sided stories about Aboriginals and their appalling behaviour. Aboriginals are Native Australians; they look a bit like Native Americans but the racial tension is worse than that between blacks and whites in the States. It's a bit like stepping back in time. I find it very unfortunate but fairly consistent that the perceived preferential treatment of Aboriginals by government assistance programs and any crime involving them is always met with the same narrow-minded opinion by Caucasian Australians.

I finally got out there to shoot some film of my last sunset here. They have the most incredible skies in these parts. The most brilliant rainbows that you can follow from one end of the arc to the other and fantastic sunsets, mostly 'done' in pinks and oranges. When it does actually rain you can see the pockets along the fields coming down in the distance. It could be bright sunshine where you are but you can watch clouds move in and rain start over your neighbour's farm. While your crops are drying out, you begin to curse Mother Nature and again begin the labour intensive process of laying out your irrigation hoses. It's what Farmer Ross finds 'so unfair about farming'.