The Recruit

  Being one of the more experienced geologists on the team, sometimes I get the pleasure of mentoring (or at least teaching) new starters on the team.  As troublesome as it sounds and as much as a new starter could potentially drag you down, it wasn't the worst gig a geologist could get on site.  It meant you could spend a roster teaching and the next one supervising. This is assuming you had done your job teaching well in the first place. And if you did a good job and your student was receptive and keen, it wasn't a bad gig at all, especially if you had pressing matters in the office.

  Enter KS. Bright eyed and bushy tailed, she was one of the new prospects the company brought in on the graduate program. Meaning she got paid peanuts. She was however, flown all the way from Houston, which meant she had perks that we didn't have - insurance, housing allowance, and whatever else expats got. She was not my first student. I had a few new starters from my previous job that I had the pleasure of teaching, not to mention colleagues that were technologically challenged and needed constant refreshers about procedures and computer programs. My immediate supervisor back then, was also an ex principal, so what little I knew about teaching and mentoring, I had picked up from him. In that sense, having a student was not new for me.

  KS was a quick learner and very competent. She retained most of what I taught her and in turn helped to consolidate what I knew about iron ore. She still had plenty of technical knowledge to learn still but it was quite easily picked up day by day. Just when I thought she was on the way to becoming a part of the team, she slipped. KS's first roster was about to come to a close and we were eagerly awaiting the flight back home. It was around mid day we received news that the flight had been delayed. GS, a cheeky geologist of kiwi descent suggested we head back to our rooms to shower up before the flight.  We asked permission from the project geologist RS and went back.

  Back at camp, GS and I decided we weren't dirty enough to justify a shower so we went to the wet mess where there was a pool table, cable TV and a table tennis equipment.  KS decided to head to her room for a shower and to rest before fly out.  We agreed to meet up at the truck in an hour.

  GS and I got carried away playing table tennis and got a little late for the meet up.  We didn't realise, but KS had arrived early and when we didn't arrive she began to panic.  She had started the truck and were about to leave without us - violation one.  GS, being GS started provoking her even further by joking that she'd be fired as she was late and it was only her first roster.  KS started to really panic.  I tried to calm her down, justifying the company wouldn't fly her all the way from Houston just to fire her after her first roster.  She was inconsolable.


Upon reaching the office we went to our desks and continued as per normal. GS kept dogging her persistently, saying she'd be fired when we got to Perth. Panicking, she walked up to the project geologist and apologised. She then pointed at me and cited my lack of a sense of time as the reason we were late. I didn't say anything, couldn't say anything, as I looked on in disbelief as I was offered up by my student as a scapegoat. At that moment I knew KS still had a lot to learn. The rapport we built in that one week was immediately broken. It took a while still before it was eventually mended. It was that day I learnt that you can teach a hot shot graduate everything you know, but they must learn life's lessons on their own.

Red Dust

  He stepped onto the tarmac as a gust of wind kicked some red dust onto his face. He was suddenly aware of the stream of people behind him and veered off to the side to make way for them. He squinted a little so the dust wouldn't catch his eye and began his journey into this strange red land.

  The ground crunched beneath the fresh treads of his boots and mixed in with the grinds and scrapes of other well seasoned boots as he made his way towards a the lone shack of a building that was the airport. An ATV roared past as it towed a carriage full of the same dark, generic rollers of luggage. He coughed a little from the fumes and wondered how everyone recognised their own.  He followed the ATV out onto the kerb where it parked up. He tried to muscle into the crowd.  It took moments to hunt his yellow canvas bag from a sea of black duffels.  It was then he noticed the same well worn expression of uninterest and apathy on the faces of everyone else.  The inhumane, early flight didn't help things he supposed.
 

  He stumbled towards a sign that indicated "new starters wait here".  As he was about to set his bag down a chirpy lady of Asian descent, who reminded him of a rabbit - jittery, excitable, walked up to him and asked:

  "Are you the new geo?"

 
  Unsure whether she would be working with him he replied:

  "Uh, yes.", he uttered. 
  "You're with exploration? ", he asked still trying to place a short middle aged lady in a supposedly predominantly white department.

  She introduced herself as Theingi and then motioned towards the group she was with and introduced me as the new geologist.  A flurry of handshakes later, names were exchanged and he met the rest of the department.  He squeezed into a packed van and it rolled out of the parking bay.

  And so his journey into the red dust began.

  Or at least that's how it went in my head.

Bad Dream

  Working on a remote site has it's ups and downs.   As it's namesakes suggests, remote sites are nearly always small, around 60 man, and far removed from any kind of support or infrastructure.  It's safe to say, you're on your own.  Sure, there was the weekly food delivery or a despatch truck would come by from time to time.  But that was it, you were cut off from the rest of civilisation for the time you were rostered on, and stuck with the same group of people until they or you were rostered off.  On the bright side, this work imposed isolation acted as a glue for camp mates and most of the time we didn't mind being within close quarters of each other.

 

  Most of the time anyway.

  One crisp winter morning as I emerged from my room to start my day I bumped into DO.  He was one of the aboriginal heavy machinery operators the earthworks contractor had on staff.  He was usually loud spoken, jolly and hot headed.  On many mornings I would wake up to one of DO 's many tributes to the 60's.  This morning, he was different.  In a panicked voice he asked if I had heard any knocking from next door.  I told him my sleep had not been interrupted at all.  This news seemed to trouble him more.  He then asked if I could check up on him if i heard anything and gave me permission to enter his room and wake him up if I heard knocking.  I felt uneasy at the thought of invading someone's personal space.

 

  Given the relatively short time I've been at this camp, I thought nothing of it and passed it off as a prank the old boys have decided to play on me.  But the next day DO said the same thing, except he seemed more serious this time.  I kidded and asked if I should interrupt if I thought he was getting lucky with one of the girls in camp.  He didn't care, and even invited me to join if it came to it.  I politely declined.  Later in the locker, DT, one of DO's mates came up to me after he saw how worried I was after that conversation with DO.

  He said that there are still people who still hold beliefs in the traditional ways.  DO was one of them.  Even though the machinery he operates isn't exactly destructive (he operates a water cart), his ancestors are displeased with what he is doing.  In his ancestors eyes, he is desecrating their birthright - their land.  This camp had even more significance as its aboriginal name translates to 'place of death' - where people came to die.  He was also told this place had very dark magic, a witch or the spirit of a witch resided there.  DT believed DO was visited by an ancestor in his dream  and haunted or harassed.

  I suddenly got goosebumps at the thought of dark figures visiting me as well as I was definitely contributing to the desecration of said land.  Just a few days ago I was traipsing through the place hunting for caves and aboriginal art on the cave walls.  I found some and did the touristy thing and took photos with mine imposed on top of theirs.  I shuddered again.

  That night was fairly sleepless for fear of a black shadow lurking in the corner of my room.  That could be my guilty conscience.  Should probably be a bit more culturally sensitive and aware from now.

 
 

Zombie Cows

  Driving is a big part of the job.  Half your day is easily taken up by driving to and from the tenement you're in charge of, either to do an inspection or a multitude of mundane tasks. This occurs daily.

  To manage our fatigue levels, we usually have another geologist working on the same tenement drive out with us and we swap driving duties on the drive back. On this occasion the project geologist accompanied us as she had some instructions for her drilling contractors.

  After our tasks were finished we made our way back.  We passed a water bore on the way out and MS asked if she had ever told us about the zombie cows.  We hadn't.

  She told us the about the first year she worked up in the MJ tenement.  There was a bad drought that year.  The livestock were getting skinny, and desperate.  She saw how boney they had become, their ribs jutting out from their hides.  She was driving past the same bore when she saw an emaciated cow feeding on the stomach contents of another animal presumably one of it's own.

  At this point, I scowled in disgust.  KS looked on, slack jaw gaping in disbelief.  I imagined a zombie cow, dead eyes, mangled hide, protruding ribs and all , munching on the grisly contents of it's former mate's insides, mooing and bellowing away.  Sensing our disgust, MS went on to explain it wasn't anything sinister.  The drought had been very bad and the station owners hadn't managed the situation properly.  They were reported for that.

 

  It was then I got a sense of how hostile this land was.  Even the most docile of creatures turn on you when the going gets rough. I guess it is a good analogy for the private sector in general.  More so in the resources industry which gets extremely cut throat.  I'm hoping I don't find a zombie cow chewing on my insides one day, but it's inevitable.  Just the nature of the beast.