Eulo*, 67kms west of Cunnamulla in south west Queensland, boasts over 20 businesses, which is remarkable for a town with a population of 50. Eulo also hosts the annual World Championship Lizard Race as part of the Paroo Festival. And if that’s not enough to put it on the map, Eulo can now claim its own national poetry champion with local, Janine Haig, winning the Bronze Swagman award for the Written and Performance Sections at this year’s Waltzing Matildas Bush Poetry Championships.
This makes local hero, Janine, the only person to take out both awards in the 32 year history of Swagman which began in 1972.
For Janine, who has been writing poetry for ten years, the win is a welcome boost during tough times. Janine and her husband, Doug, own and run a sheep and cattle station called Moama, which covers 106,000 acres and is 100kms west of Eulo. “The station is gripped with drought,” reports Janine. “We have been feeding stock for almost three years and have lost more than half our sheep. As the bookkeeper, among other jobs, I can tell you it is quite a juggling act, keeping our heads above water, financially.”
The couple have three daughters aged between 15 and 21 and Janine, who has two published books, I Hope Yer Sheep Get Flyblown and Always Wear Clean Knickers, is the country cousin of Kim Wilkins, author of the award winning Europa series.
Bush Spirit, Janine’s new book, which will be a combination of silly and serious verse, will be out at the end of October.
Here is her prize winning poem, Not Gone. It expresses the disbelief of a wife who has lost her husband in a tragic farm accident.
(*In case you were wondering about the origin of the name Eulo, the stories vary. One theory is that it was named after a woman from a European country and her name was pronounced Eulo but spelled differently. Another theory is that the name is Aboriginal. Some say it stands for dry place/creek/river, others claim it means wet springs).
**NOT GONE
He can’t be gone. I know that any moment he’ll be back;
The chocolate cake I baked for him is cooling on the rack,
I can smell his aftershave – I know that he is near,
And if I hold to love I know that he will soon appear.
I didn’t say “I love you” when he hurried out the door,
I didn’t say “I’m sorry” for our fight the night before,
I didn’t kiss his cheek and hug him as I always do,
So this must be a nightmare. I know it can’t be true.
His dog lies by the kitchen step, her eyes confused and dim,
She will not move away because she’s waiting there for him
To whistle soft and say her name and make her life complete;
One word will cease her brooding and bring her to her feet.
He can’t be gone, the yards are full of calves he needs to brand;
I hear the sound of neighbours who have come to lend a hand,
He should be there to supervise and rally them along,
Making sense of chaos in the bawling, milling throng.
That savage bull he battled with will have to go away,
He told me just this morning that he ought to shoot that stray,
He said the bull was crazy, and he said it with a curse –
That bull would do some damage – he’d gore someone… or worse.
He knows too much to turn his back on cattle that are bad,
He’s worked at drafting cattle in the yards since just a lad,
He’s agile and he’s quick when there’s a need to climb the rail,
I won’t believe that suddenly those skills of his could fail.
Despite what they are saying, I know they must be wrong;
He wouldn’t go and leave me, he knows I’m not that strong.
And that broken, battered body – I know that wasn’t him –
His face is always smiling – he never looks that grim.
A murmuring of voices insisting it is true,
A gathering of women who are here to see me through
The shock and then the grieving – for me to lean upon –
I don’t know why they bother. I know he can’t be gone.
He can’t be gone, his laughter echoes up and down the hall,
I know that any minute I will hear his Smoko! call;
He hasn’t signed the documents to verify our loan.
He knows I cannot keep the business running on my own.
He can’t be gone, he promised me that he would mow the lawn,
He promised he would be here when our baby boy was born,
He promised he’d be careful, so I’m sure there’s some mistake –
For if he’s gone my heart will cease to beat and simply break.
Stop telling me these stories – they’re just a bunch of lies,
I know that if I’m patient he will open up his eyes
Then fold me in his arms again and rock me to and fro –
Don’t tell me any different for I do not want to know.
** Copyright held by:
Janine Haig
Eulo
March 2003
Winner of the Bronze Swagman Bush Poetry Award 2003, Winton
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