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Authors: Roger McDonald
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helpers. The cook as well. The forces at work on the shearing team were as deceptively smooth as the forces operating on a pool table. Nudge one ball and another reacted. He felt this in the kitchen â what if he fouled up? The owner felt it in the back paddock, droving in wethers for the next dayâs shearing. He knew he was the crux (it wasnât just ego or possession, either). What if the sheep went streaming into the donga, never to be seen again? Mrs Holgate felt it back at the homestead, filling every available container with water, and freezing it solid in the row of chest freezers along the verandah wall. It was a killing heat now. Men were drinking a litre an hour and more. They had gutaches and cramps. Mrs Holgate made an ice run twice a day, keeping the men happy.
âYou havenât got the bitchiness you get in factories,â she said. âTheyâre getting rid of some of their frustrations shearing. You know, burning energy. But I think you need women in the sheds for that flow â you need a mixture, just to give it that family sort of feeling.â
Blocks of ice were delivered to the quarters, and carted over to the shed on the cookâs smoko runs â ice in all imaginable shapes tumbling out of rinsed-out styrofoam vegetable boxes, ice in the form of a teapot, even, with the spout intact.
âYour average grower wouldnât go to that sort of trouble,â Bertram Junior noted, his eyes shining and his chest jutting out proudly. He liked this client and hismissus. There was a chance that ice would cool whatever trouble was brewing.
Â
At smoko he drank his tea and listened and watched. He saw Pam (fresh from Kiwi) stamping her foot, twisting her shoulders, putting her nose in the air. Whatever it was, it wasnât how it was done back home . Whatever it was, Barbara sternly reminded her, was how it was done here . The atmosphere told him that relations were breaking down between those at one end of the work-ladder who were working because they had to, and those at the other end whose way of life was tied up in doing the best job possible. Louellaâs hands were sore. The wool was full of burr (âburr on burrâ was the technical classification). Barbara advised Louella to tape up her hands, but she didnât want to. Why should she. Why should she put herself back in a situation like school, where pakeha teachers ordered you around, âdo thisâ, âdo thatâ, till you just wanted to walk out on the whole lot of them. And where did you go? Into the sheds.
He saw Bertram Junior stroking his chin, tightening his mouth, swivelling his eyes around, looking determined. The classing table and rouseabout revolt werenât his only problems. Being an overseer wasnât easy. From what he had seen, Bertram Junior burnt the candle at both ends, then torched it in the middle. If he thought too much about the perfectionist requirements for overseeing heâd surely go crazy. Alastair always said a top overseer had to be a unique person. Did any such person ever exist? He had to be able to turn round and show anybody how to shear. He had to class wool, and he had to be the best classer in the place if he was going to hold his job for long and keep the respect of growers. He had to be able to control people. He had to be able to control the grower by convincing him that he was doing as good a job as expected. He had to be the best expert about the place, in the sense of grinding tools and fixing up machinery. He had to be a top psychologist if there were any family problems in the team. He was the first one anyone cameto with problems â so he had to be able to understand people, the changes in people when they were under stress. Not only that, he had to know how to cook as well â what groceries to get, how many loaves of bread were needed for a week for a given amount of workers. (Right down to whether they liked melons or whatever.) He
âYou havenât got the bitchiness you get in factories,â she said. âTheyâre getting rid of some of their frustrations shearing. You know, burning energy. But I think you need women in the sheds for that flow â you need a mixture, just to give it that family sort of feeling.â
Blocks of ice were delivered to the quarters, and carted over to the shed on the cookâs smoko runs â ice in all imaginable shapes tumbling out of rinsed-out styrofoam vegetable boxes, ice in the form of a teapot, even, with the spout intact.
âYour average grower wouldnât go to that sort of trouble,â Bertram Junior noted, his eyes shining and his chest jutting out proudly. He liked this client and hismissus. There was a chance that ice would cool whatever trouble was brewing.
Â
At smoko he drank his tea and listened and watched. He saw Pam (fresh from Kiwi) stamping her foot, twisting her shoulders, putting her nose in the air. Whatever it was, it wasnât how it was done back home . Whatever it was, Barbara sternly reminded her, was how it was done here . The atmosphere told him that relations were breaking down between those at one end of the work-ladder who were working because they had to, and those at the other end whose way of life was tied up in doing the best job possible. Louellaâs hands were sore. The wool was full of burr (âburr on burrâ was the technical classification). Barbara advised Louella to tape up her hands, but she didnât want to. Why should she. Why should she put herself back in a situation like school, where pakeha teachers ordered you around, âdo thisâ, âdo thatâ, till you just wanted to walk out on the whole lot of them. And where did you go? Into the sheds.
He saw Bertram Junior stroking his chin, tightening his mouth, swivelling his eyes around, looking determined. The classing table and rouseabout revolt werenât his only problems. Being an overseer wasnât easy. From what he had seen, Bertram Junior burnt the candle at both ends, then torched it in the middle. If he thought too much about the perfectionist requirements for overseeing heâd surely go crazy. Alastair always said a top overseer had to be a unique person. Did any such person ever exist? He had to be able to turn round and show anybody how to shear. He had to class wool, and he had to be the best classer in the place if he was going to hold his job for long and keep the respect of growers. He had to be able to control people. He had to be able to control the grower by convincing him that he was doing as good a job as expected. He had to be the best expert about the place, in the sense of grinding tools and fixing up machinery. He had to be a top psychologist if there were any family problems in the team. He was the first one anyone cameto with problems â so he had to be able to understand people, the changes in people when they were under stress. Not only that, he had to know how to cook as well â what groceries to get, how many loaves of bread were needed for a week for a given amount of workers. (Right down to whether they liked melons or whatever.) He
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