The Angel of Bang Kwang Prison (5 page)

I worked with the handful of women in the kitchen. These women were tough; they had to be, and though I admired them I didn’t envy them their life-style or want to ape their toughness. We didn’t stay there past a couple of months and I was glad to leave. It was a strange isolated society that was built around manual labour. Life was regimental thanks to the rules of the camp. There was nothing cosy about the place—the men slept in cheap mobile homes that thankfully had air-conditioning. There was a drive-in cinema and plenty of bars but that was it as far as their social life went. I befriended one of the women, a mother of three young kids, and would accompany her when she went to the city to buy supplies once a month. You could buy stuff at the camp but it was generally marked up. The wages in the camp were really good—they had to be to attract people to work there in the first place. Anyway, getting back to civilisation once a month was worth the long drive. I couldn’t wait to have a coffee in a nice café and stroll through shops that would normally not interest me in the least. I felt I had returned from living on a strange planet and actually got some pleasure from looking at the relatively busy high street in Darwin.

There was also a lot of wild life; well, more than I was used to in Melbourne. The nearby rivers ran into the ocean so you could frequently see sharks cavorting not too far from crocodiles. On one of our trips I saw the biggest snake I have ever seen in my life. It was a massive python and was slowly making its way across the quiet road. We drove over it and it was like going over a ramp. I was astonished to look back and see it continue on its way as we did ours, none the worse for having had a car loaded down with supplies on its back. That snake summed up life in the uranium mine camp; no matter what, you just did what you had to do, without fuss or ceremony.

My years with Pete taught me that I was a born traveller, and paved the way for much of my life, constantly on the go. I just felt so free with my one small suitcase and backpack. I had few clothes and possessions but felt rich in myself. There is an amazing hitch-hike/backpacking network to be availed of; we met and befriended so many like-minded travellers of all nationalities, it was a complete revelation to me. I loved Perth and Queensland. The people in these two places were exceptionally friendly and I especially loved the mix of building styles in Perth—modern and colonial. Then again I loved the fabulously beautiful and cosmopolitan city that is Sydney, with its many beaches and parks. I’m a sucker for the beach!

Nevertheless, I think one of the most memorable places was, for me, the cliffs of Nullaboor, not least because I thought I was going to die from the whooping cough that engulfed me during my stay there. In 1867 the government surveyor, Mr E.A. Delisser, was surveying the land between southern and western Australia and named the place ‘Nullus Arbor,’ which is Latin for ‘No trees’. It’s a lovely name but I believe quite irrelevant as there are more than a few trees around now. Those cliffs have to be seen to be believed; they are meant to be the longest cliffs in the world and have a sheer drop of 100 metres. There are no safety railings whatsoever and therefore absolutely nothing to prevent you from falling to your death on the rocks below should you accidentally trip up or lose your footing on a windy day.

The honeymoon didn’t end in a proper marriage. I thrived during those years of travelling around Australia under the guidance and care of Peter but I knew in my heart that he and his desires weren’t enough for me. Spending the rest of my life with him wasn’t an option and gently we went our separate ways. I needed to keep moving, to help people. I’m glad to say that we’re still friends today and regularly keep in touch. After the uranium mine I headed back home to Melbourne. I had kept in touch with my family by phone and was looking forward to seeing them again. If the truth be known, I had also missed Melbourne, which will always be, I think, my favourite place in Australia. I was 19 years old and ready to settle down in one place for a bit. I moved in with my friend Rose and her toddler son.

Rose is ten years older than me and remains one of my closest friends. She’s slim and attractive with long brown hair. I literally don’t remember not knowing her. She is one of those friends who will support you with everything they have, but if you’re going off the rails they are the first ones to level with you right between the eyes. She was always great fun and I admired her constant creativity in the different forms it took, from writing to photography. We studied pottery, drank lots of cheap red wine, ate pounds of chocolate cake and spent hours upon hours in deep conversation about men and such like. I fell for her little son and was like a surrogate mother to him. I even loved her mother, a retired teacher and widow who still sends me money today.

Rose and I also worked hard together doing things from putting on puppet shows for kids, to visiting the elderly and helping out the disabled. Helping people was my drug of choice now. I had buckets of energy and good cheer and I loved using it to improve, however briefly, the lives of those I came into contact with.

Fast forward to me standing on a crowded busy main street at lunch-hour. I was in downtown Melbourne, which was full of offices and busy people dressed in suits, handing out Christian pamphlets to the mostly male passers-by. Normally they wouldn’t have given someone in my position a second glance but I took advantage of my looks. I was a slim, attractive blonde who was dressed reasonably sexily, so I got more attention than most. The men were curious to see what I was handing out and many of them offered some chit-chat. I wasn’t shy either and was bouncing up to them saying, ‘Hi, how are you? Here’s something you might find interesting.’

I became slowly aware that I was being watched by a man. He was gorgeous, and very, very cool. He was leaning in the doorway of a men’s clothing store and evenly met my glance. ‘Hmm,’ I thought and made my way over to him. I handed him a pamphlet and we started to talk. He could have been a model, he was that good-looking. He was also lost and looking for direction, just like I had been. We held an intense discussion in the doorway, I summarised my life to date for him, and we kicked over this need to search for meaning and purpose. Suddenly he had an idea.

‘You’ve got to come with me!’

So I did.

‘My friend is opening a high class nightclub and you would be great for the customers.’

‘Ok, cool,’ I said as I toddled after him down a dark alley and through an open door. I found myself standing in the foyer of a big nightclub called Sheiks. The owner was there and there was a real buzz in the air as the club was to open that night, launched by the American singer George Benson. My new friend marched me up to George the owner, who glanced approvingly at my appearance. The interview was brief; ‘Have you got nice legs?’

I lifted my skirt a little.

‘Good. You’re hired. Go over to that girl with the dark hair and tell her to measure you for your costume.’

I was now a Christian playboy bunny no less; it fitted in perfectly with my plan and personality. The guy I’d spoken to had seen how easily I managed to talk to people and connect with them, and between us we knew that I could continue to talk about Christianity with the customers, allowing them to open up, but in an environment where they didn’t feel like they were being judged. For me, it was perfect. I could talk to people who needed help and assurance, and guidance in life, but I could also have some fun while doing it.

I informed my new boss that I wanted to work the quiet nights only. He was surprised and pointed out that it would mean less tips. I shrugged and said that I wanted to talk to people. I also asked to work the lounge, which was the quietest room in the club, where the music was soft and the emphasis was on relaxing and intimate chat. The front of the club was more of a disco with a DJ, bright lights and mirror balls hanging from the ceiling. I worked two set nights, Sunday and Monday, but I would help out if they were stuck for staff. I ended up doing a lot more than serving drinks. I filled in for the receptionist, the hostess, and I even worked in the kitchen when necessary. I really enjoyed it. It suited me because I had decided that I wanted to help people who were lost and lonely. There was no point sitting in a church, since no one, especially the young and successful, go there, but they would go out for a drink, in search of company, preferably female. It was perfect! They would ask me what I did in the day time, probably assuming that I was a student. When I told them about my Christian beliefs and doings, they were amazed and would give me a tip or a kiss. More importantly, they would listen to my message.

There was one customer in particular, a slim, good-looking, well-off executive who was always flanked by different girls every night he came in. He was a bit of a charmer and was always generous with his tips. He would brag to me about his desk in his office creaking under the weight of all his different technical toys and gadgets but I saw through his brashness and believed him to be a lonely guy appalled by the emptiness of his life. He was always ready to chat to me but never quite dropped his guard. I’d like to think that he eventually fell in love with a decent girl and married her and had lots of kids. He actually gave me a generous donation when I left Australia.

There was another guy, a fat, cuddly Italian who also had lots of money but had been dragged through a bad divorce. He would often search me out to talk about his life, his big house which was too big for him now that he was alone. He went out on lots of dates with these tiny, attractive women, but it was probably too soon after the breakdown of his marriage, and nothing came of them.

I loved my bunny uniform with the big ears and fluffy tail. I would shake my tush and talk about the voluntary mission work I was doing. I was a hit with the staff and clients, and I thrived in this environment. There were lots of conversations with people who wanted more from their life. I listened and counselled and served the cocktails. Sheiks proved a popular spot. It gained relative fame when celebrities, Australian and otherwise, would visit to help promote the club and would end up on the evening news. There was huge controversy when a well-known penthouse model joined the staff as a bunny girl. She may have looked the part but we were forever cleaning up after her; she frequently dropped trays of glasses—full and empty—on the floor or else she would accidentally tip someone’s drink into their lap. Anyone else would have been fired, but not a penthouse model!

Staff from nearby nightclubs would come to ours on their nights off and would furnish us with free passes to their place of employment. I made a lot of new friends and danced in a lot of nightclubs aided by free drinks. I even dated the Scottish DJ for a while—I loved his accent. For six months I had a ball and lived day to day without plan or ambition. I felt relatively fulfilled and at peace with myself—relatively.

I was alone at the beach one night watching the moonlight shimmer on the water. I don’t think I was especially thinking or pondering over anything in particular but suddenly I felt the hairs go up on the back of my neck and I was filled with a buzzing energy. You don’t have to believe me but I clearly heard a voice inside my head ask, ‘Why are you giving to those who have so much when there are so many who have nothing?’

If I thought the universe was going to praise me for my good works to date—getting people interested in charity work, encouraging them to open up and discuss their problems and worries, and telling them about Christian spirituality—I was brought back down to earth with a bang. I sat there a little stunned, replaying the message in my head until it hit me like Newton’s apple; I should go where there are people who have nothing, and I decided:

‘Asia!, I’ll go to Asia.’

I was quite cold by the time I dragged myself off the damp sand but I also had a date to work towards—11 September, which was a mere three months away. I had no idea how I was going to get to Asia and I certainly had no money, but I wasn’t going to worry about that for now. The first thing I did was head to the nightclub to inform my boss at Sheiks that I would be quitting in the near future. I found him downstairs with some of the management staff. He beamed at me when he saw me approach.

‘Hey you! We have been talking about you and have just decided we wanted to offer you the position of manager.’

How many times does that happen? You make a big decision to change your life and someone promptly offers to improve the life you have.

‘We want to give you more responsibility because you have proved yourself an exemplary employee after six months,’ he continued, before I could reply.

I found myself carried along in their excitement and smiled and nodded vacuously while my insides were squirming.

‘There is one problem Susan, which I’ve been meaning to tackle you about.’

He had me curious now, as I fully concurred that I was an exemplary employee.

‘We’re getting a reputation of being a church, so I’m going to have to ask you to stop talking religion with the customers.’

The cheek of him, I thought. I hadn’t preached in ages. Well, the decision was made for me, so I told him:

‘Thank you for your kind offer but I’m afraid that I was actually coming down to tell you that I would be leaving. I’m going away in September.’

And that was that.

The people in work were a bit funny about my decision. I think the managers were genuinely disappointed that I was leaving, because I would have made an excellent manager. No one congratulated me on my momentous decision to travel to Asia to help people. In fact it would be safe to describe the general reaction as slightly defensive, as if by saying, ‘I’m going abroad to help the less privileged,’ was my way of saying, ‘Look at you, you’re overly-privileged and you don’t help anyone,’ which I most definitely wasn’t saying. It was a strange time.