Barrow Creek

• Rachael Westcott, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2010

Barrow creek
My friend Bala and I spend our time down at the creek, Barrow. We laugh and play till our hearts desire. But when sundown comes we must go back to town for Bala’s family would be waiting. Bala is part of the ‘dark skinned’ people. My father says it’s not good to have a black friend. But Bala is my best friend I don’t care if she’s black or not. Barrow creek is her hideaway, a place to talk about our feelings while sitting in the big gumtree. The gumtree is a special symbol to Bala’s tribe so we sit there and sometimes talk for hours.
Every weekday till Thursday I go to school. My mama’s the teacher there and she says the school board won’t allow black children at school. Bala says she don’t mind but I know that she wants to learn and be one with the ‘white folks’
Bala has a little brother named Adoni which means ‘the sunset’. Adoni sometimes comes with us to the creek but he knows that it’s our ‘special place’.
Sometimes I go to Bala’s hut for dinner. Her mamma makes the best kangaroo stew. I had never tasted kangaroo before, until I came to Barrow creek. Her Pa works on the plantation on Mr Abbot’s farm. He comes home at dinner time. Bala says that Mr Abbot treats her Pa badly and he comes home with beating scars all over his back. Most of the black families live on the plantation but Bala’s family chose to live in an old hut on Mr Abbot’s property.
One time Bala came to my house crying and said that Mr Abbot had moved them from the hut into a tent outside the farmhouse. She said that her Pa was badly hurt after Mr Abbot worked him till after sundown. She said that Mr Abbot was unhappy with her Pa’s work and punished him and her whole family. I sat with her until her crying came to low sobs. After that I walked her home and we didn’t say one word.
I waited in Barrow Creek and finally Bala come and sat quietly next to me. I took her hand and she told me something I never wanted to hear. “Were leavin” she said softly. I knew why and now it was my turn to cry. She said that all her family thought of was being free and now was her chance as Mr Abbot went away on a business trip. Bala said that other black families were going with them. I asked when she would leave. She said tomorrow. She placed something in my hand. I looked at it. It was a wooden whistle and her name was engraved in it.
Now every year I till this story to my children so that they would to theirs.
The End