Expatriates (16 page)

“If a thing is old, it is a sign that it was fit to live. Old families, old customs, old styles survive because they are fit to survive. The guarantee of continuity is quality. Submerge the good in a flood of the new, and good will come back to join the good which the new brings with it. Old-fashioned hospitality, old-fashioned politeness, old-fashioned honor in business had qualities of survival. These will come back.”

—Eddie Rickenbacker

T
heir stay at the Edwards home was comfortable. The two guest bedrooms and a cot in the den easily accommodated them. The next morning, Rhiannon was amazed to see colorful Gouldian finches flitting around in the shrubbery of the yard, followed by a pair of wild Sulphur Crested Cockatoos landing in the tree outside her window. As a birder, these sightings were thrilling for Rhiannon.

“Do you know how much a cockatoo like that sells for in the States?” she asked Vivian.

Mrs. Edwards shook her head. “Thousands, I suppose. They're considered pests here. A big flock of them can do a farm a lot of damage, ricky tick.”

When Rhiannon came back into the house, she found Peter and Tatang in a deep discussion. “Tatang has decided to sell his boat,” Peter announced.

After Alvis drove to work, Vivian drove Peter, Tatang, and Joseph back to the Wyndham docks. They carried several empty boxes with them and a large For Sale sign that had the phone number for the Edwards's home on it.

They borrowed a skiff, and the three men paddled out to
Tiburon
. Meanwhile, Vivian waited in the minivan and practiced with one of her
Let's Learn Afrikaans
audio CDs.

Not knowing if it would be days, weeks, or months before the boat might sell, they took down the canvas awnings and stowed them below. Then they methodically removed the remaining tools, books, food, spices, memorabilia, and other personal effects from the boat and tidied it up. They left the solar trickle charging the batteries and the automatic bilge pump switched on. With the tiny leak at the propeller shaft seal, Tatang estimated that the bilge pump would cycle only once every nine or ten days.

The cardboard For Sale sign was taped up on the rear awning mast. They left the cabin looking shipshape before closing the storm hatch and locking it. As they paddled away, the elder Navarro said, “Good-bye,
Tiburon
. You've been a good boat and you got us here safe.” He looked skyward, and added, “Thank you, Lord.” Joseph gave his grandfather a hug, and they both smiled. They were sad to give up the boat, but they knew they badly needed some Australian currency. And because Navarro was unfamiliar with fishing in Australia and lacked the money to buy fuel or new fishing nets, it was unrealistic to think they could go back to fishing to earn their living.

After they were back at the house, Vivian helped Tatang write a bill of sale with the line for the purchaser's name left blank. The boat had no formal registration papers.

On faith, Paul Navarro gave Vivian the signed bill of sale, the cabin storm-hatch key, and the fuel pump.

—

I
n an exception to normal policy, the Department of Immigration and Citizenship representative flew from Darwin to Wyndham, rather than having the Jeffords and Navarros report to the local Immigration office. The manager of the local Wyndham office was miffed and started to complain, but he was told that the Australian Security Intelligence Organisation (ASIO) had taken an interest in the case. The department wanted a more senior man to handle the investigation.

The Immigration officer's flight from Darwin was in a Pilatus bush plane that was owned and operated by his second cousin. He tried to give his cousin plenty of business since he always provided reliable, punctual service at the going rate. Plus, the Pilatus was an excellent plane that was capable of takeoffs and landings on very short airfields. He felt quite safe as a passenger in it, especially with his cousin at the controls.

The Protection Assessment interview was conducted over a barramundi luncheon at the house. The Immigration officer, Ralph Simmonds, was a portly and jovial man in his fifties. As expected, the interview turned into a repeat of the Jeffords' story of their escape from Samara, but conspicuously absent of any mention of their possession or use of firearms.

“That is an exceptional story, and you are an exceptional case, indeed,” said Simmonds. “You surely deserve a fair go. In my estimation, all five of you are entitled to Class XA visas. It's our special humanitarian Onshore Protection visa and it's what we've been giving the Timorese who have arrived by boat. I have no doubt we'll see some more refugees from the Philippines in the months to come, but being the first to arrive on the north coast this year by sea, you are getting
capo d'astro
treatment. I do want you to do me a favor, however. I'd like you to write a detailed report of what you heard from that Catholic priest and what you've seen with your own eyes for me to forward to some officials in the Australian Security Intelligence Organisation at Canberra. Don't be surprised if ASIO sends some of their boys up here to debrief you as well. What you've said about the possible invasion of Australia is troubling,
troubling
to say the least.”

After a pause, he said, “I'll be providing a statement to Customs. Your baggage and boat have already been inspected.” He then added with a wink, “I inspected them myself.”

Simmonds turned to Tatang and Joseph. “You will both shortly be issued a Travel Document in Lieu of Passport, as well as visa labels. I'll make sure that they are fully renewable. Welcome to Australia.”

Once Simmonds had left, Alvis asked, “So, you are planning to go to Darwin?”

Peter nodded. “Yes, we'll probably just thumb rides. We travel by faith.”

Alvis shook his head. “Hitchhiking in Australia is frowned upon. It isn't nearly as easy as in the P.I. or in the United States, particularly for a large group. With five of you and all your bags, you might have trouble finding even a truckie that would have enough room to give you a ride. And there are no scheduled buses—only charters and those are costly.”

Vivian gave Alvis a glance with a cocked head. He nodded in response. “I have a little ute in my garage that I could give you. It would be yours to keep.”

Peter looked surprised. “A yoot?”

“A utility truck. We call them utes.”

“That is extremely generous of you, sir,” said Peter.

Alvis laughed. “Don't thank me until you've seen the ghastly thing. It is about ready to rust out, I'm afraid. That Datsun is already wearing its second ute bed. Utilities don't last long in my line of work. The air at the salt yards is a real killer.”

When Alvis opened the garage door, Peter could see what he meant. The truck was indeed quite rusty, with crescent-shaped rings of rust around the wheel wells. The rust was so bad that there were even holes in the worst parts of the rust patches. The hood was also deteriorating badly.

Edwards started the pickup and backed it out into the driveway. There was a hole on the muffler, so it was noisy. “I'm afraid that she'll whistle and rattle if you get it up over seventy klicks,” he shouted.

The front half of the truck was painted white, but the back half was yellow. When asked about this, Alvis explained, “In the salt business, the ute beds always rust out first. So it's not unusual for us to buy a replacement ute bed from a wreckers.”

That evening they went to see a movie at the Wyndham Picture Garden, an outdoor movie theater run by volunteers. They used the outing as a shakedown run for the Datsun. Most of the moviegoers brought folding camping chairs, but some preferred to sit in their cars. Two groups of teenagers brought couches in the back of their utes and parked with the sides of their trucks facing the screen. It was illegal to ride in the back of an open pickup in Australia, but it was explained to them that many rules were enforced “quite casually” in the more remote regions of Western Australia and the Northern Territory.

—

A
s they were packing for their journey to Darwin, Alvis handed Peter the title papers for the Datsun. Then he went back to the house and carried out two green metal ammunition cans. “This is some .30-06 ammunition for you. I don't own an oh-six rifle any longer, so this ammo is of no use to us. Most of it is loaded in Garand clips. I've got to warn you, though, it is mostly old U.S. military stuff, so you can assume that it has corrosive primers. With that priming, you'll have to clean your rifle very tidily after shooting it.”

Handing Tatang the cans, Alvis quipped, “Who knows, someday you may need this ammo if the Indos or the Chinese come to visit.”

Alvis had to leave for work before they had finished packing the Datsun. He shook hands and said his good-byes. He left them with his standing joke. “Well, back to the salt mines.”

Since they had no Australian currency, Vivian gave them five hundred AUD in cash so they'd have enough money for fuel. Peter offered to return it, but Vivian insisted it was a gift. Their American and Philippine currency was worthless, but Australian dollars still held most of their value and were generally accepted. Before they left, Vivian gave Rhiannon a hug. “Call me if you need any help at all. May God bless you, no matter where you alight.”

They followed the route that Vivian programmed into Tatangs's GPS. The roads were narrow and substandard until they reached Kununurra. The 560-mile drive from Wyndham to Darwin went well except for a leaking top radiator hose. As they neared the town of Katherine, steam coming from under the hood signaled that something was amiss. They stopped and found that the top radiator hose had split. They refilled the white plastic radiator filler tank with most of their remaining drinking water. It was just four miles to Katherine, so they drove to a Mobil Oil station to get help.

Even before a petrol station attendant came around front to help, Joseph declared, “I think the hose is long enough that we can just shorten it. I saw this same thing happen once with my friend Honesto's Jeepney.”

After buying fuel and allowing the engine to cool down, they rolled the Datsun to the side of the station. They were indeed able to shorten the hose using Tatang's
balisong
knife. With a screwdriver from the
Tiburon
toolkit, they were able to detach and reattach the hose clamp. As they worked, the station attendant quizzed them, asking about their escape from the Philippines. He was fascinated. Sarah ran and skipped around the pickup, gleefully singing “This Little Light of Mine.” By the time they had refilled the radiator and checked for leaks, it was nearly dark. The attendant kindly gave them a dozen used plastic soda bottles so they would have extra water for the radiator on hand for the remainder of their trip.

It was still 155 miles to Darwin, so they decided to spend the night in Katherine. The service station attendant told them that the least expensive hotel was just east of town on the Stuart Highway. The rooms, he said, were around one hundred AUD per night. After their fuel expenses en route, they knew they couldn't afford the lodging and asked the station attendant if there were any other options. “No worries. My uncle is the bishop of the Anglican church here in Katherine. He'll find rooms for you for the night,” he said blithely.

They went to sleep that night saying prayers of thanks for God's travel mercies.

“Throughout history, poverty is the normal condition of man. Advances which permit this norm to be exceeded—here and there, now and then—are the work of an extremely small minority, frequently despised, often condemned, and almost always opposed by all right-thinking people. Whenever this tiny minority is kept from creating, or (as sometimes happens) is driven out of a society, the people then slip back into abject poverty. This is known as ‘bad luck.'”

—Robert A. Heinlein,
Time Enough for Love

T
hey had breakfast just after first light the next morning. Their host was a retired baker who never got out of the habit of getting up early. After a “brekky” of lamb chops, eggs, and biscuits, they were on the road at eight thirty
A.M
.

After driving to Darwin, Peter asked directions to the Presbyterian Reformed church, which was doctrinally the closest to his “sending” church in New Hampshire. They were told that the church met on Sundays at the music auditorium of Kormilda College on Berrimah Road. After further inquiries, he was given the phone number of the pastor. Using a borrowed smartphone, Peter called the pastor, and after a brief introduction and explanation of how they got to Australia, the pastor gave them directions to his home.

They spent the full evening with the pastor and his family. The pastor and his wife were originally from New Zealand. He was a very likable man who immediately welcomed the Jeffords and Navarros as if they were long-lost cousins. Before retiring for the night, Rhiannon used the pastor's smartphone to send a text message to Vivian Edwards to let them know the address and phone number where they were staying.

Within a few days, the pastor had found places for them to rent and lined up work for the men. Tatang Navarro was offered a twenty-hour-per-week job as a FMA instructor at the Powerpit Gym in Alawa. Joseph got a thirty-two-hour-per-week job at the same gym—with his time divided between duties as towel boy in the evenings at the front desk, and doing janitorial work after hours. Eventually, he transitioned away from the janitorial duties into a position as a part-time FMA instructor. They lived in a small apartment in Alawa that was within walking distance of the gym. Since they had hardly any Australian currency, Tatang was given a modest cash advance on his first paycheck.

The Navarros' apartment had a kitchen that looked like it was modeled in the late 1960s. Its curved kitchen counter provided lots of dead space behind the cabinets where Tatang was able to construct a hidden compartment to conceal his M1 Garand, Joseph's Ruger .22, the flare gun, and all of the ammunition. The owner of a flower shop gave Paul some bags of silica gel, a desiccant that protected the guns from rust. By putting the silica bags in the oven overnight on low heat, moisture could be driven out to reactivate the silica.

Ten days after they had settled into their apartment, Tatang found a parcel on his doorstep when he came home from work. It was marked
NORTHERN TERRITORY COURIERS & MAIL SERVICES
. Inside was a box that had been mailed to Darwin from Wyndham.

He opened the inner box and found a cell phone, two cell phone chargers (one AC and one DC), an envelope full of cash, and an envelope containing a letter. The letter read:

Dear Tatang Navarro, Joseph, and the Jeffords Family,

We've been praying that all is well with you in Darwin.

All is well here. Alvis talked with everyone that he knew about finding a buyer for your boat. He did find a neighbor who has always been keen on fishing but who had never owned a boat of his own. Alvis cajoled him into buying yours. He really talked up its seaworthiness and the reliability of its engine.

The gent asked to take it for a test run first. They got the fuel pump back on it straight away, and the engine started immediately. But then it died after idling for just a few minutes. They discovered that it was
out
of fuel. That shows you how narrowly you sliced things when you arrived at Wyndham! Long story short, they refilled the fuel tank with diesel (which costs a lot these days), reprimed it, and then the engine ran marvelously. He gave $6,200 AUD for the boat, which was a higher figure than we had discussed. So I trust that you will find that satisfactory. In addition to the cash, I have enclosed the gift of a mobile, with 750 prepaid minutes, so you and the Jeffords have
no excuse
but to keep in touch with us. (You will see it has our number programmed.)

By the by, they've already been out fishing twice on the boat (the second time with us) in deep water with heavy tackle. On their first foray they caught nothing but sharks. (Apropos, I suppose, given the boat's name.) But on the second trip we hit a spot of
luck
Providence
and landed several large fish, including a giant trevally and three tuna. The largest of the tuna weighed more than 300 pounds! It was all quite the thrill.

Let us know if there is
anything
else we can do to help. We specialize in overcoming difficulties, and we never forget our friends.

We wish you a Purple Patch!

May God Bless You,

Vivian and Alvis

—

T
he old man read the letter over and over, and so did Joseph. They were pleased to hear that the boat was being put to such good use. The stack of cash seemed like a huge windfall. They were quite grateful and amazed at the Edwards' generosity. Joseph promised to share the letter with the Jeffords family the next day.

—

P
eter Jeffords got a job sorting and hauling farm produce. He worked for one of the church elders who lived in Jingili. The Jeffords rented a small house that was just off Rothdale Road. The job was six days a week and involved long hours, usually starting at five
A.M
. each day. Though the job didn't pay well, it was steady work, something that had become a rarity in Australia. It also meant that Peter would have the use of his delivery truck, which was critical since the Datsun was not very reliable. He had Sundays off, which was important to him since he didn't want to miss church and Sunday evening meetings. He also had a quitting time in the late afternoon, which allowed him to lead two evening Bible studies and to attend another. Peter had a “lumper” assistant who proved to be invaluable; since he was born and raised in Darwin, he knew all of the local roads.

The Jeffords liked their new house on Rothdale Road. Originally built in the 1960s, the walls were all gypsum board. Peter felt the need to hide his Pindad rifle, but he didn't want to cut holes in the wall of a rental house. So he bought a large 1960s console combination AM/FM stereo and stereo record player at a thrift store. There was little demand for these big antiquated stereos, so it cost only thirty AUD. It had a nice teakwood cabinet. Its design had sweeping legs that set the internal stereo cabinet nine inches off the floor, but the trim in the front, back, and sides extended down another four inches. Peter took advantage of this extra space to build a three-inch-deep gun caching compartment beneath with a plywood lid. Accessing the compartment required flipping the stereo console on its back and unscrewing the plywood, but he didn't anticipate the need to do so very frequently. Since the cabinet was almost six feet long, he had plenty of room for the rifle, magazines, ammunition, and web gear. He greased the rifle heavily before storing it.

They bought three four-kilogram bags of Catsan Crystals—a brand of cat litter that used silica gel as its main ingredient. It was similar to the Fresh Step Crystals cat litter that he'd seen used in gun cabinets back in the States. Rhiannon poured the cat litter into two pillowcases and positioned them at both ends of the hidden compartment before they screwed it shut. Their rifle was thus safely out of sight and safe from the depredations of Darwin's notoriously high humidity.

Both Peter and Rhiannon found that the story of their voyage to Australia was a great way to strike up conversations with strangers, and to then share the Gospel. They didn't hesitate to call their escape from Samar
providential
. Peter included their story in sermons that he delivered as a guest speaker at nine local churches of various denominations.

The Jeffords kept up their friendship with the Navarros through Peter's Bible study meetings, which Tatang, Joseph, and later Joseph's girlfriend attended regularly. The Navarros were dinner guests roughly once a month at the Jeffords's apartment. Tatang often volunteered to be the cook for these meals. He would bring his spices to cook at the Jeffords, because his apartment was so tiny. The Jeffords were also invited to attend exhibition FMA matches at the gym. These were intended to drum up business for the gym. The Jeffords came to most of these, both to see the matches and for the opportunity to eat some of the Navarro's
lumpia
spring rolls—which Joseph and his grandfather made in quantity to serve at each exhibition. Their
Lumpiyang sariwa
made with diced chicken and heart of palm became legendary at the gym.

—

A
fter his conversion, Chuck Nolan had become active with the Casuarina Baptist Church. The church, nicknamed Casi Baps, had a friendly atmosphere. In addition to the main Sunday services, the church elders hosted several Bible studies. It was at one these meetings that Chuck got into a lengthy discussion about Romans chapter 13, which Chuck had found confusing, especially in the modern-day political context. The elder who was leading the meeting said: “You know, I have an acquaintance in the Presbyterian Reformed Church who just started an eight-week home study series specifically on Romans 13 and those thorny issues, on Tuesday evenings. I think you'll like it. He's an American. His name is Peter Jeffords.”

After an introduction by telephone, Chuck was invited to join the Romans 13 study. At his first meeting—which was the second in the series—Chuck was loaned a book coincidentally by another American named Chuck. Pastor Chuck Baldwin. The book was titled
Romans 13: The True Meaning of Submission
. Chuck Nolan dove into the book and soon learned that Romans 13 was about submission to
good
government, and how the verses had been twisted by twentieth-century theologians to somehow justify a loss of personal freedom in America and in other ostensibly Christian nations.

Because of their similar doctrinal views and partly because they were both Americans, Chuck Nolan and Peter Jeffords became great friends. It was through Peter Jeffords that Chuck met Tatang Navarro, which led Chuck to study Pekiti-Tirsia Kali
.
When Chuck learned that Pekiti-Tirsia Kali started students with edged and blunt weapons, and only
later
taught empty-handed fighting techniques, he was sold. “Finally, I've found a martial art with some common sense!” he declared.

He greatly enjoyed learning the martial art and eventually convinced Ava Palmer to study Pekiti-Tirsia Kali
as well. The two practiced sparring with each other whenever they could. In turn, Ava became a close friend of Rhiannon because of their shared love of bird watching. It was Ava who taught Rhiannon the names of many local birds.

The Jeffords and Navarros quickly adapted to life in Australia, but there were difficulties since the economy was still shaky. Widespread shortages occurred because the country had become dependent on imports of processed foods that were sourced from New Zealand, the U.S., Canada, Malaysia, China, and Argentina. Some specialty foods came from Greece, Thailand, Peru, South Africa, France, and Belgium. Many textiles and electronics had come from China. With these imports sharply curtailed, a huge market in secondhand goods sprang up.

There was a huge run on cigarettes when realization spread that they were all either imported or made in Australia with imported tobacco. Domestic tobacco production had ramped down to nearly nothing in the 1990s. The nation went through what one editorial at
The Australian
called “a national nicotine fit” for nearly two years, while domestic tobacco growing—both commercial and backyard—ramped up and new distribution channels were established. For a short time, tobacco seeds traded at nearly the same price per ounce as gold.

At the same time that people with nicotine addictions were going through withdrawals, so were the millions of Australians who were dependent on antidepressant SSRIs and other mood-altering drugs, most of which were imported. Their withdrawal was particularly painful and led to hundreds of suicides and a few well-publicized mass murders and murder-suicides. In one of these, a man hacked his family to death with a machete before he jumped off the Bolte Bridge in Melbourne.

The department stores became almost empty shells, while street markets thrived. Vehicle spare parts, computers, and computer peripherals were in chronic short supply. The stigma in buying used goods completely disappeared. Some of the most sought-after items were expendable items such as batteries, ammunition, blank DVDs, and blank CD-RWs.

Chuck and Rhiannon adapted well to the rapidly changing circumstances. Their many years of missionary service had accustomed them to living on very little money, improvising, and living self-sufficiently. This made them well suited to a hardscrabble life in a disrupted economy. Meanwhile, their daughter, Sarah, was almost oblivious to their poverty. She remained content in a life without luxuries. As a missionary kid, she had always worn hand-me-down clothes, so her expectations were modest. She soon made neighborhood friends with girls her own age. Running around with her friends, she learned where she could pick wild fruit. She also delved into the local school library, which had free book lending. Sarah was homeschooled, but the school's sympathetic librarian always greeted Sarah warmly when she arrived for her daily three
P.M.
visits.