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It was the beginning of January whenOlivia was sent away. Instead of
the graceful leap from the nest as she had imagined, it was more like
a forceful shove. She had plummeted from the secure bubble of home,
wheeling and screeching. Where her friends had either made plans
for University or were arranging gap years to exotic places, she had
fallen face first into the red dust of the Australian outback. And she
hated it. She hated the feeling of gritty sand in her socks and sweat
sticking stray hair to the back of her neck. Within the first minutes of
leaving thedingy airport her lipswere cracked andflies had attempted
to launch themselves at the canals of her ears. By the first hour in the
bus she was ready to sell her soul for some air conditioning. Hell had
nothing on this place.
Once the two-hour bus ride (which was more like a rolling tin
can)hadslowlytickedawayshe’dfinallyarrivedatheraccommodation
for the three weeks. The cabin she was staying in was less like a motel
and more like a rundown shed. The wooden beams that supported a
tin patio roof were rotting and the front door didn’t seem to be in
any better condition. Minutes after entering the stale bungalow she
found herself staring dejectedly at rusted pots and pans on a lopsided
shelf as she attempted to hold back tears. The place was a dump.
Just after her father had booked the plane ticket to send her
here, Olivia had delved into the trusty TripAdvisor website. There
had she looked up the best accommodation in the Australian
outback and spent hours admiring hotel rooms with working air
conditioning and luxurious pools. However, after the sobering
thought that she had to pay for everything on the trip, she had
decided on this small and cheap cabin. The website had boasted
three star accommodation with a white tiled bathroom and a small
but fashionable kitchenette. Turned out the people who ran the
website were liars. The one thing they didn’t lie about was the time
it took to get in and out of Alice Springs. This tin shed was only
half an hour from the government school where she would spend
her days volunteering. Funny, the word ‘volunteering’ made it
seem like she wanted to be there. How ironic.
Two days after she arrived, Olivia visited the school to learn the
ropes and take her first class. It was a grim place, more like a jail, with
high wire fences, asphalt yards and bricks the colour of the sand. The
classrooms were stuffed with mismatched desks and faulty chairs
and the carpet was half dirt and half dust. Yet as she wandered
Of Dust And
Dirt And Other
Godly Beings
Emma Bannister
12