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Me, Graeme Gee, wearing the Australian Cricket team shirt in my office at AusIs (Australian International School, Dhaka).
It is another morning in Cranbourne North as the air is filled with the cacophony of grass wrens, doves and mudlarks competing for air space as they flit for ground space. They are fluttering about in the slight morning breeze, chasing the seed mixture we have placed on the bird stands and on the grass.
What was it like all those years ago in Southern Cross, Western Australia ?
As the winds of war were still sweeping across across Europe, as I was born in Southern Cross , Western Australia, on the 6th July, 1944.
Later in life I was very to find out I was a direct descendant from Charles Gee .
Charles Gee came to the Swan River colony in 1829 . The Swan River colony later came be known as Western Australia.
I have had a long and interesting journey of life that has taken me throughout Western Australia, overseas to England and Bangladesh and finally to here to Cranbourne North in Melbourne, Victoria.
Life in Southern Cross
My parents were surprised how I could remember details of Southern Cross, where I spent the first 5 years of my life.
Dad had a very interesting police case while there.
Two criminals stole a car in the eastern states and headed west across the Nullabor. They must have been afraid of being caught with the stolen car, a huge distinctive American model with big wings protruding from the rear,, so they decided to bury it. Near Southern Cross,
On the Great Eastern Highway, which connects Perth and Kalgoolrie, they stopped travelling and ran the car off the highway and over the huge water pipeline which conveys water from Mundaring Weir to the Goldfields. They dug a hole in the earth and drove the car in after making numerous tracks through the bush to confuse anyone looking for the burial site.
After the car burial, they even replanted small shrubs and other plants.Sometime later they were recaptured and admitted burying the car. They were flown in a light aircraft along the water pipeline in an attempt to locate the burial site.
My dad, the policeman in charged of the Southern Cross station, and another officer, went to the site where the car was buried. The car was eventually found after a crow bar was driven repeatedly into the soils of the area and struck metal.
It took several days for the car to be dug out. The police took turns digging while on of the criminals was sitting under the shade of trees, nearby, handcuffed to another officer. It took one more day to dig the car out than it did to bury it.
When the car was driven out of the hole, the only damage done was a dent in the roof where the crowbar hit. On the seats of the car were two rifles and hundreds of rounds of ammunition.
The car was taken to Southern Police Station where it was washed and awaited the owners to come from the East. Dad was amazed that when the owners turned up. They didn't even thank the police for the work done to recover their vehicle.
Dad always instilled in us the need to thank anyone for good things done by them for you. My parents had in their Innaloo home a periodical magazine of the time, The Pix, which detailed in words and photos the whole story.
At the age of five I left Southern Cross when my father was transferred to another gold mining town, Gwalia.
We left with my mother, and a sister, Margaret Rose, born in August, 1945 and my brother, Brian, born in February, 1947.
As usual our belongings were transferred through the police department by rail. But to our amazment on arriving at our new house, the rail carriage containing our effects was lost by the WAGR. We had to stay at the only hotel in the town while the carriage was found. It was eventually located after 3 days. It had been shunted off onto a small side line at a railway station and forgotten! It was left there in the severe heat of the summer,and needless to say,many of our household items were affected by 40 C + temperatures. Mum found photo albums with the cover plastic melted.
Gwalia was a small town 300 km north of the large mining centre of Kalgoorlie-Boulder. Gwalia is still a small town. In the mining heyday it was very large town. It was so large that trams ran between it and the nearby town of Leonora. It was estimated a thousands of people once lived there, when gold mines were in peak production.
One of the things I did as a kid to get pocket money was to roam the landscape going through the ruins of buildings. We used to get scrape metals, such as door knobs,hinges, etc.
My sister, Nola Mary was born while we in Gwalia. February 20th, 1950.
The police house was large and situated on a corner block. It was not far from the railway station and pub. A vacant block was next door and along the back fence ran a lane way. This lane way was used by the miners going home from the pub and the man who came to empty the toilets….the night cart man.
Dad told me a story……in a small mining town the night cart man also drank a lot. One night he was heading out of town with a full load of sewerage. But having drunk a lot was speeding. Coming around a bend, the cart tipped over and the contents spilled all over the road. He took a shovel and began putting it back.
He was so busy he didn't hear the local policeman pull up.
"Okay what do we have here…drunk again !"
"No."
"We know your drunk..answer correctly!"
"I'm not drunk….I'm just stock taking!"
Our had the fowl run built around it.So if you were in a hurry to do 'the business' you might often leave the gate open and hens & roosters would get out. This happened to me one day….Dad's vegie garden suffered greatly…..and so did my backside!
I was sitting in the toilet one day when a hen came in and sat beside me. She laid an egg in my hand.My mother was there one day and she was bitten by a poisonous spider..the Red Back. She was taken to hospital…very ill….they took out two trays of poison….and she came close to death.
Years later an Australian singer, Slim Dusty, wrote a song, the Red Back Under the Toliet Seat…it was popular and enjoyed song….but Mum never enjoyed her experience!
