The Afternoon of AO Neville
When all the other clerks have gone
he’s flicking through his set of cards.
Every fleck of black is in them
How much the dream of paleness haunts him:
half-caste, quadroon, octoroon,
the colour fading, birth by birth,
until the housemaid’s linen bib
gives back the lustre of her face,
white as flour, all darkness gone.
He know he will not live to see it –
It hangs there like a sought horizon.
Those screams at separation are
a washing blue that brings the whiteness.
He hears them vaguely from the office.
They never quite distract him though.
And blacks, of course, when kept apart,
Implode into their very blackness.
They cannot fit the modern world.
Though often now he’s half-disheartened,
Thinking of his fellow whites –
Fettlers, stockmen, rouseabouts,
Swagmen, fossickers or drovers –
Sowing semen fecklessly
Between black thighs with swearing maybe,
A little violence, as required,
A grunting, quick – two-minutes only,
Breathing whisky, like as not,
And station owners, too among them,
Not just the riffraff of the road.
A wedding’s whiteness will not happen
even if it were desired.
It’s not there in the cards he fingers
The photos wouldn’t turn out right.
He fights a different sort of warfare,
white seed wiping out black.
Some evenings though he’s less pleased.
His mouth gives out a little sigh.
He’s like some half –breed chambermaid
He might have trained himself,
Slouching in the morning after
to give her boss’s sheets a boiling
And hang them whitely in the sky.
Page, Geoff. (2006) ’The Afternoon of AO Neville’, in Agnostic skies. 2006, Five Islands.
Verity Cripps - Working on the Typing Pool
I know in the winter it was very cold and in the summer, we may have had a fan but it would’ve been a floor fan if we had one and for a fairly big room, it didn’t present much relief. I always remember the basin in the corner of the typing room. I think originally it had been two rooms and it had been made into one room. It had the nice brown paint halfway up, I don’t know what period that came from but I remember the nice dark brown shiny paint. We used to eat our lunch probably at the desk and then go for a walk down town. We didn’t have that much money to spend, don’t forget. I started on thirty-three and sixpence a week and I was considered well paid.
Dr. Ken Curruthers - Former Commissioner of Health
I remember it as a pleasant place to work, yes. It was good. The library was good and the people we worked with were pleasant. I don’t remember anybody being particularly difficult or nasty. It was quite a family sort of affair. It was small enough to be like that, I suppose, in those days. Nowadays, you haven’t got a hope.