Saturday, August 30, 2008

Pre-pack and Uplift

Moving around as we did, following our Fathers postings, was a great adventure of wonderment, anticipation and excitement but as with most moments of glory we collected our share of battle wounds along the way.  You don't get something for nothing in this life, thats just the way it is.

The first postings i guess you're too young to understand what was happening.  One day a big truck comes, strange men are walking around your house emptying your cupboards into boxes while others are taking your furniture to put into that big truck.  You hadn't noticed that some of your toys had slowly gone missing the weeks before because your Mother had started to pack quietly at night in preparation for this day while you slept.  

As the house contents disappear out the front door during the day you find ways to amuse yourself in the empty spaces or a cleaned out room.  You climb into yet to be filled boxes and play with the packing paper, and when you start getting in the way you are told to go outside and play, oblivious to the changes that lay ahead.  The grown ups are busy, men are shouting orders, "left, left, now watch that step, easy..eeeasy", your parents are talking in anxious whispers to each other.  

At the end of that day, dark time is coming, the truck and noisy busy men have gone and the house is filled with echo's.  Everything you knew has just driven away and the empty shell you are standing in suddenly looks and feels very different.  

An empty house is a very strange environment, to this day i still don't feel comfortable in hollowed out places.  I think it reminds me of endings when it should bring feelings of new beginnings. Whenever i move into a new home which is yet to be filled with your furniture and effects, i fight the urge to flee, fight the resentment of having no choice but accept the changes. 
  
Flight or Fight, Fight or Flight.

The only way i get through it is to sit on the bare floor of the new lifeless dwelling, lean back against a wall and wait for this urge to pass.  I need to take in the new surroundings, see the potential, place the furniture in a design my mind is starting to make.  I need to turn this house into a home. Slowly my thoughts shift because i have made myself see the positives from this change, i get up and i start that long and seemingly never ending  chore of unpacking.  

As each piece is pulled out of the boxes and put in its place, which i know will be moved many times before i leave that home to go to my next, (and there will be a next..always) the feeling of flight gradually disappears. I am accepting and adapting, I'm deciding to make the most of what is and what lays ahead and letting go of what was.  
I'm then ready to look forward to the next chapter, the next adventure.

That is the ritual.
It is the only way we know.

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Where are you from?

How many times have you been asked this over the years and what do you reply?

I take a deep breath and say, "Well, i was born in Brisbane but my Dad joined the RAAF when i was just 4 months old" ..i pause.. and continue with a quick mumble of "and then we lived all over the place."
The pause, followed by the quick fading mumble, is a result of experiencing that well known glazed over look in the eyes of the person who asked the question.  I used to have a longer reply that went something like "and we lived all over the place, so i don't really consider myself a Brisbanite, or a Queenslander for that matter, actually i'm not really from anywhere."
I learned to stop myself when i saw that glazed over look, hearing the voice in my head saying "stop jo, stop now, they aren't interested and you've lost them, save yourself, don't say any more." 
Thats where the pause comes in, it helps me to know if its time to listen to that voice and the mumble is when it is too late and i couldn't stop the words coming so they just faded out to nothingness. 

What is our Identity as ex dependents of Australian and New Zealand Defence Force Personal? 
Do we have one?

The 'ex' in ex-dependants suggests that something is over, out of, and we certainly aren't dependents of our Fathers anymore, some may have never had contact with Military in any form since their Fathers 'got out' or when they left home and became independent.  I left home when i was 17 and my Father retired from the RAAF in 1986 after 23 years of service, with another 3 or 4 years as a Reservist, yet i still consider myself a Brat.

Why?  Because Brat is my place of origin, my home base, my upbringing therefore way of life.

We humans culturally differentiate as a means to understand each other (or show our ignorance's) We use our senses to sum up another.  The way they look, their accent, sometimes the way they smell, allows us to decide how to communicate with them, rightly or wrongly, consciously or unconsciously.  Whether they be from a different country, a different part of the country we live in, city, suburban or country folk, generally this determines what kind of person they are and how we will interact with them.  Be they friend or foe?  
What our senses first tell us is confirmed with some questions or if we wait until they voluntarily tell us themselves. 
Our place of origin backs up that all too human first impressions thing, it can define us or contradict the whole theory, never-the-less, we use it.  With pride or shame we announce where we grew up to show the world why we think the way we do, what culture, environment and influences shaped us to be the people we are today.

I don't have a one word location, it can't be found on a map, not even in a street directory.  Where i am from doesn't physically exist.

I am, however, a product of a particular culture, a very different and somewhat  hidden culture, perhaps even invisible, because in my post Vietnam War youth, the Military wasn't thought of by the civilian population the way it is perceived and welcomed today.

The culture i belong to, has a language of its own, it has no defined religious beliefs, its people have an adaptive resilience and a unique understanding of the world and human behavior.  
We are the product of our Military Fathers and our Military Wife Mothers, but the Brat culture was formed, shaped and created by and for us because we didn't feel as if we fit in anywhere else. 
A culture which is ours, strongly influenced but not fully understood by our parents and the Australian and New Zealand Defence Force.
No flag to fly, no anthem to sing, no sacred ground to rest when our time on earth is up. No bugle will play at our funerals yet the sound of the last post hits the very core of our being in a way we will never be able to describe nor explain.  

There is a sense of pride within our culture. I don't dare compare with those of our Fathers, but we have our stories, our fair share of battle wounds and glories, we served our time as the brats of Defence Servicemen.

We earned the title and wear it with pride, but it means nothing to anyone but you and I.

Where are you from? they ask. 
I'm from nowhere, I'm a Military Brat, says I.

Saturday, August 16, 2008

There's Something in the Water!

There is one stand out memory talked about the most by the Brats i went to school with in Woodlands.
To those who remember  watching 'Jaws' at the Fernleaf in 1976, as referenced in my last blog, this is for you....
I couldn't resist.
Turn up the volume.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Do I know you from somewhere?



Many of the first brats to be found were the boys of NZ Service High School, Woodlands 1976/1977. 
Why? 
Because i only had the 1976 school magazine by my side at the computer and because well, the girls get married and change their surname don't they?
So the first intake were predominately males along with a few females who were not married or were still known by the male brats and were told about the site.
It was so exciting to check my email to see who had come along next.  People i hadn't seen for almost 30 years who had remained the teenagers that they were in the photos on the pages of that school magazine.  

I wonder if anyone who grew up in the same town, suburb or city knowing the same people all their lives, can imagine and understand what it was like for us who grew up feeling as if we never really new anyone or any place.  
And no one really knew us.
We have no understanding of their type of life either, but we thought about it.  We tried to imagine what it would be like..didn't we.

When in my early 20's i settled down and started to feel some sense of community where i was living.  The first place i'd lived in for more than 3 years.  I made some good friends and i got used to my surroundings and daily life, but i never got used to the concept of people knowing people.
Walking with a friend we would pass someone in the street and they would casually comment that the person passed was someone they knew from primary school.  I would stop and gasp.."you knew them in primary school?! as in when you were a kid? why didn't you say hello to them???"  a look of strange uncertainty from them would follow after my reaction.  They couldn't see what the big deal was and would shrug then go on to tell some stories of that persons life that someone else had told them.
Amazing!
Friends had the same Doctor for years, even since birth.  Corner store owners knew them by name and would ask after their parents, sisters and brothers.  Old Mrs Corner shop lady would say 'I remember when you were a little tacker coming in every week to spend your pocket money on 10 cents worth of mixed lollies".
They showed me locations, such as a park or a skating rink, as we walked or drove by and tell a story of a particular incident that happened in their childhood.  There, right there, they would point. 
Wow!
The friends who cared to ask about my curiosity for something they found quite normal would be told that i didn't know what it was like to be feel so familiar with the people and surroundings in my area.   I hadn't stayed still long enough to experience it.

So the kids in the photos of my trusty old school magazine from 1976 came to life as they found their way to the group.  All grown up with families of their own and stories of their lives since the printing of that magazine.

John Terewi, John and Colin Murphy, Rip (Ruapeka) Rogers, Dean Rennie, Ross Fearon, to name but a few.
I knew them, i knew the things of Singapore they remembered, our other classmates and Teachers.  I knew the places they were talking about when they talked of playing handball at school.  The school or Tengah disco's we went to, the Fernleaf where everyone swam in the pool, hung out at the tables and the night we all first saw 'Jaws' on the white brick wall of the hostel used as a screen with the scary water of the pool under it in the dark.  (if you were there that night, you know exactly what i'm talking about)

And..they were able to pass on the whereabouts of others from our time in Singapore because they had kept in touch over the years, ran into them or they served in the NZDF as their Fathers had.  If they didn't know each others exact location, they had a fair idea and a phone call or two was only needed to track them down.

These boys, our Soldier Brat Boys as i call them, (i have nick names for all groups and groups within groups to do with Singapore brats if you haven't already noticed)  are an integral yet hidden facet of Australian and New Zealand Military Brats of Singapore. 
I'd like to tell you why i know this to be so....another day.

Thursday, August 7, 2008

The Changi Brats

Three people played an important part in the beginnings of this story,  Andrew Baumback, Glen Mooney and Jon Anda. 
The aussie brat, the kiwi brat and the kiwi consulate brat who had seen it all.  
Three very different people with three different reasons and three different perspectives.
They may be surprised to read their names here, they may not, but it is here i feel i must acknowledge them because i want to.

Many people have asked me over the years, what made you think to start the group Jo?
my simple answer to that question is - Because there wasn't one.
    
Did i think i should be the one to do that? 
No.  

Did i think i could be the only one who could do that? 
No.

The long answer to the question is given in my entries to this blog and congratulations (and thank you)  if you have stayed with me through it thus far.

Come back with me for a little bit to schoolfriends.com.au where i found the first brat who was also seeking others who lived in Singapore for a brief but happy time of their life.
As i have already stated, that site didn't have an option to select our schools of Singapore back then.  I wrote to the sites administrators and explained and others must have too because before long there was an option to add a school not listed on the site.  
I quickly got to work to follow the prompts and added 'Woodlands High School, Singapore'. Embarrassed to say i did not yet remember the actual name of the school 'NZ Services School, Singapore.  Over time i checked to see if there were other entries of Australian or New Zealand Services Schools and there was.

Changi Brats.
Changi High School, Singapore or ANZ Services School, Changi.
I get some strange looks when i'm waffling on to my civy friends about the Singapore brat group and referring in particular to the Changi Brats.  Changi? as in Changi Prison?  

Thats what Aussie's and Kiwi's know about Changi isn't it, where the POW's of WW2 were kept after the Fall of Singapore. 
Well, the Changi Brats for us are the ex-dependents of Australian and New Zealand, predominately Army, some Airforce and even fewer, Navy personal. 
Their Fathers, therefore the family, were posted to Singapore and the school they went to was in Changi. This was during the years 1971 to 1973.
A time cut short when the then Australian Prime minister, Gough Whitlam and his Labour Party, cut defence spending and the Australian contingency had to pack up and go home.  Some families were only part way through their 2 year posting.  Sorry folks, party is over time to go, just like that.  The name Whitlam is a dirty word within the Australian Brat community, and i can understand why it would be.

I sent a message one of the Brats listed under Changi High, registered at Schoolfriends.com.au , about the site, the now defunct yahoo one.  I think it was Gill Pennock. It could have been Rosie Cornwall and Steve Jones too.  I do remember that they contacted one another to make sure they knew about the site.

My initial idea for contacting them was to learn more about what came before us.  The Singapore they knew of in the early 70's.  I didn't think they would be interested in the site too much, after all, it was then filled with mostly the memories of mid 70's brats who came after.  But they came, they saw and they stayed.  
Changi Brats, as they know they are affectionately known to me as, have a special place in the Brat part of my heart.  
Why? well, I'll leave that story for another day, but in the meantime i made another video especially for them. 
The first sighting of a male/boy in the video is none other than Steve Jones, one of the more  well known and much loved Changi brats of the group.  
Enjoy.

Monday, August 4, 2008

Bigger, Better, Brighter

So we were originally a yahoo group, but it wasn't to be for too long.  From memory we had about 60 members and there was warning that yahoo was going through the groups doing a massive upgrade.  Notice from the site administrators that we would be out of action for a few days while they did their thing.  A few days turned into a week until i looked into it to find they had lost our group in this process.   
Gone.
Just like that.
I recovered a few days later after a talking to from one of our members, a newly acquainted friend, Jon Anda.  
I vaguely remembered Jon from my time in Singapore, he was one of the 'big kids'.  A few years older than me, he was with the big kids over in the senior part of the school.  Big kids could be seen sometimes if you ventured to that high area, on the parade ground each morning for assembly or in the senior hall once a week.  They were always 'over there', at the back of the hall or at the other end of the parade ground.  
Jon and his younger brother Michael, i was to learn, were unique in that their Mother worked for the New Zealand Consulate and they lived in Singapore for, i think, 7 years.  They first went to a Chinese primary school for a little time then were put into the  Royal Naval School at Woodlands which was handed over to the Australians in 1971 and renamed ANZ Services Primary School. Jon started high school at ANZ Services School, Changi and then moved back to Woodlands after the hand over to New Zealand when the school then became known as NZ Services school, Woodlands.
Jealous? i was.  
Jon had experienced the two handovers ..British to Australian to New Zealand Armed Services and was a wealth of information.  He knows Singapore like no other brat of Singapore.

We lost our group, or rather Yahoo did, and i was devastated.  What was i going to do? 
"Build it and they will come", that voice (the one that comes to people who need a push along) kept whispering in my ear.  Well i built it and they came and suddenly there was no where for them to go.  The field was missing.

Mr Anda encouraged me to find another field and build again, so i did and we became a MSN group...community as they were known as back then.  The 22nd March, 2002 i opened the new site and i sent out emails to explain what had happened.  

Gradually, brats found their way back and with the help of Jon, this brief  err.. interruption made me more determined to build a stronger base. 

We shall not be beaten.

It was Jon who showed me the potential for this reuniting of Brats of Singapore and what it would mean to so many, why it was important.  
Others may have already thought the same but Jon expressed it all to me in a way that i could now see the big picture, i guess because he himself was a part of that big picture having experienced the changes over the years he was there.  This contact with Jon was.. somewhat symbolic.  Another something that was meant to be in this strange and exciting time travel back to bring brats together to the future.