Of Orange Shirt Fame

Vas made it into the newspaper, page three, in color, and he is pretty proud of it. He figures he may be famous now.

And maybe he is, at least in Kununurra.

The newspaper thing was yesterday and tonight he was the star again, as part of the team organizing the opening act at the big footy game: the Grande Final.

As I write this, I can hear the whole town cheering; not for Vassi, as deserving as he may be. Vas is on the couch here with me: probably the only two people in Kununurra not watching the game! Footy is huge in Australia, and we pay homage by not yet removing our orange shirts.

Vas and I, part of the Orange Shirt Team, were there earlier: gathered together as the sun turned the sky red and purple, softening the two big Boab trees under the crescent moon and the star which remind me of Oman.

It was a magical evening and I may have missed it completely if Vas wasn’t such a mover and a shaker and hired me to record it. I got an orange shirt and a little video camera, both of which had to be returned, for my efforts.

I filmed the children getting their faces and hair painted in the team colors, blue, yellow and red, by the Save the Children workers, in their orange shirts. They were with us!

I captured the signs and banners about stopping domestic violence. I breathed in the atmosphere with the little video camera: hoping the emotion managed to soak into the film (or what ever we call it these days).

The players roared into the field, breaking through the huge paper banner as they ran, (Ok.. I missed that part) all wearing the white armbands the Domestic Violence group gave them, to show solidarity. They stood solemnly and listened to the speeches and attempted a minute’s silence.

Only then did the kids release about fifty white, helium filled balloons. It was lovely and went off without a hitch: kudos to Vassi. And to think I almost hadn’t made it!

The game was to start at 6, so I figured leaving home at 5 for a five-minute walk would leave me plenty of time. I knew where I was going: I had the map out of the phone book!

But things are never all that easy are they?

Kununurra was ‘created’ in the 60’s. That was the decade of drugs and rock and roll, and nobody apparently noticed that the streets of their new town rocked and rolled all over the place. It's impossible to find your way around!

That’s my excuse anyway. I did notice cars lining up beside the post office but didn’t think it had anything to do with me. Really, who would line up for a football game, almost an hour before it started?!

So I missed the gate and had to walk about 2 k around the field, looking at all the orange shirt clad Domestic Violence workers, white balloons, eager players and hoards of spectators, through a chain link fence.

Rather than just going back the way I came, I took the short cut, which added about another 35 minutes to my adventure: but I got to meet a couple of police men, and the people whose yard I tried to sneak through, (nice couple, scary dog).

I was also reminded how vicious the burrs are here and why it is always a good idea to wear boots in Australia.

At least I didn’t meet any snakes in the grass. But I worried about it.

Anyway, I made it inside the grounds, no charge, courtesy of the .. yes, the orange shirt, and got out my little camera. I had read the instruction book and was intently capturing the field, the players, the workers, the crowd, when three guys with huge cameras, loads of filming equipment and even tripods came into my view finder: smiled and waved.

The ABC had arrived.

Bugger.

Hey, they didn’t have orange shirts!