“I remember one time we was all out at a wedding. It was one of her nephews and he was marrying a white girl. Her brother told her she could go but reckoned she wasnt allowed to muck up and drink too much, and give cheek. She promised she’d behave. ‘On my dyin’ oath, brother!’ she reckoned.
So she turns up and she was all dolled up and bein’ nice as pie. She’s sittin’ with me ma and dad, and we’d nearly gotten to the end of the night and Aunty hadn’t insulted anyone. And as much as it was killin’ her, cause it was free, she was going real easy on the grog.
Anyway, right towards the end of the reception one of the old white women from the bride’s family comes over to our table for a yarn. She’d been loosenin’ up a bottle of gin and had a bit of the old wobbly boot on. She plonked herself down next to Aunt and started making small talk. Aunt was nice as pie, answerin’ all the lady’s questions, and keeping a civil tongue in her head just like Uncle wanted her to. Then, the lady told Aunt how the family had been worried about Gretchen marrying an Aboriginal at first.
“But he’s turned out to be such a lovely boy! My gosh,” she’d said, “if you closed your eyes you would think you were talking to a white man when you’re talking to Dane.”
Aunty grit her teeth and said, “yeah, i dunno how, but sometimes we fluke a good one.”
“You certainly do!” said the lady, taking another swig from her gin.
Then the lady started complimenting Aunt on her good looks and nice skin and Aunt’s lappin’ it up. Then she asks Aunt how old she is and aunt tells her she’s 65. The lady looks surprised. “65!” she says. “How unusual. I didnt think you Aboriginal people lived that long. I mean with all the violence and the alcohol and the drugs and what not.”
“Well,” says Aunt. Takin’ a big slug of beer and fixin’ her large black eyes on the lady. “Well my dear,” she says in a really flash voice, “I only sniff unleaded petrol.”
Even though Uncle told us to keep and eye on Aunt and chip her if she mucked up we couldnt help ourselves. The whole table just busted out laughin’. The old white lady looked in a confused sort of way. Then when she at last realised she was gettin’ the piss taken she got up and staggered off. Uncle saw the commotion and came stormin’ over. When we told him what happened he started laughin’ too. He went and got Aunt a fresh beer. A whole jug, all to herself.”
Gayle Kennedy from a talk given at the Sydney Writer’s Festival
