#she could burn her away. destroy her utterly and completely. but she wont | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

papers4me · 3 years

Text

Fruits Basket Manga Review, ch (92-93)

That was painful & so well-written! This analysis will focus on kyokyo mainly & faintly on her effect on kyo. Although, her story affects tohru’s life immensely, I won’t analyze tohru’s part & will wait until it’s a tohru’s chapter to use the knowledge of kyoko’s past to better read tohru’s mind & understand her decisions! Can’t wait! after all, that’s why I’ve read the manga to begin with!

-Kyoko’s Atonement: (the weight of words):

Kyoko breaks down after she learns she’s expecting. Why? cuz she hurt her mom. The notion that “yeah my parents caused me emotional trauma & so I’mma hurt them as well” is toxic & burdening as it starts a cycle of pain. Kyoko was right. She had no idea how her mom felt seeing her rebel, or follow violence or hear her harsh words. I’m not cleansing the mom from guilt nor responsibility. I’m just saying since the mom’s pov is blocked from us, assuming shes similar to the dad is wrong. kyoko’s fear of being punished with a child similar to herself is genuine, realistic & refreshing to see expressed in anime! usually character like kyoko are cool & brave, but here she’s humanly weak & doubtful. LOVE IT!

Moreover, in furuba words weigh on ppl & have consequences. We see this with kyo. His dad destroyed him verbally with words “ not my fault, it’s yours” that kyo echoes back to yuki! meaning the consequences of the dad’s words cause harm to his wife, kyo & even yuki!. Kyo was tormented with his own words for long time & clung to them even more in order not to resort to suicide! “ not my fault, it’s the rat’s” . Words can crush you down so bad if you hear them from loved ones, & worse if you utter them back to other loved ones! here kyoko learned that just the mere thought of her future child echoing her words back to her would torment her to death! Excellent writing!

-Katsuya invented Furuba’s vision (Accepting weakness & moving on):

The teachings of kyoko & tohru were really katsuya’s after all. I’m fne with that. These teachings are the core of Furuba’s vision. He tells kyoko to accept that she’s weak, afraid & doubtful. it’s okay. But gives her tools to move on. Your kid isn’t you. They’re an individual person. As parents all we can do is give love/hugs (sth kyoko’s parents didnt do), listen to them (sth yuki’s parents didnt do) & if they do sth wrong will explain it & teach them well (sth kyo’s parents didn’t do, his wrong deed was being born a cat spirit & he was hated for it with no explanation, mom gave lots of “fake” love & escaped by death, dad became a raging monster). Accepting weakness & moving on is what the cursed sohmnas needed to do to heal & what tohru taught them. Off course, tohru herself struggled to follow her own teachings & that’s amazingly realistic!

-Kyoko’s guilt (punishment brings ease):

Kyoko wanted to be punished so harsh for her husband’s death. The gossip got to her. She failed him as a life’s companion. Taking care of our loved ones is a duty we carry with much love & care. Them slipping away is perceived as us failing by none than ourselves. The thing is, death comes with no warning at times. It was his time to leave. Accepting it or not, wont bring him back, but accepting it will help kyoko deal with pain while not accepting will cause more pain for her & tohru.

One of the most painful things abt grief is that it’s personal. Life continues around you. Only you feel it. “didn’t the world end when katsuya died”. No kyoko. Only you died emotionally. Only him died physically. Kyo once said “ mom why didn’t you kill me instead”. A different reaction to grief, guilt & pain, but same conclusion: neither katsuya nor kyo’s mom are coming back no matter how much pain kyo or kyoko felt.

Kyoko found ease in emotional death, neglecting & refusing life, punishing herself for staying after him.

kyo found ease in rage & blaming others as he his father did, later he’ll escape to emotional & physical slow death “ cat cage/confinement”.

tohru... found ease in pretending "I’m okay” & her mom is alive.. but not physically.. emotionally, so she’ll ignore the truth & live only for her.

Didn’t I say grief is harsh, weird & very very personal. It’s hard to explain, deal with & heal. The mere words of consolation hurt cuz the grieving ones dont want to accept loved one are really gone. Her dad’s harsh words cemented the “emotional death” that kyoko felt. I’m not needed. neither katsuya. nor parents in general. depression. misery. sadness. emptiness.

-The tv show helped to trigger kyoko’s desire to “meet” katsuya. She has already reached the conclusion that she isnt needed. So, the tv show with their words of the deceased wanting you to be happy. triggered her into misinterpreting the words as to mean her death NOT fuel her to live in his memory as intended.

- “Loosing your way first before finding your answer” is okay & so human!:

Ironically..Tohru... was the person Kyoko was punishing NOT herself: By being emotionally dead, kyoko neglected her daughter. Her world shouldnt be just one person. There are others. Katsuya himself gave her a person to love. Tohru. Kyoko chose death & unintentionally set tohru into a world of loneliness 10 times harsher thsn what kyoko faced. She was about to do, but was saved by a nameless child who reminded her of tohru. She chose wrong first but later saw her answer. Kyo chose death by accepting the confinement & he, too, unintentionally set tohru into a world of loneliness 10 times harsher if he wasnt with her. He chose wrong first but later saw his answer. Off course kyo’s story is more developed & complicated as he dealt with bigger issues than just tohru & his answer wasn't just loving tohru alone but also loving himself & choosing to live for them both: himself & tohru.

-Kyo’s guilt is a concussion thought eating him alive:

Part of why kyo’s story was one of the most human & complex is due him loosing his way first, failing, repeating mistakes “ I always though that hurting ppl was the only thing I was good at, after all, isnt that why mom died?” Kyo’s nightmare being a conscious effect of hearing tohru’s talk abt “ videos & memories of loved ones” is 1000 times stronger & more human than a cliche effect of seeing a “ hat” & to revive a a blocked memory... What the hell!! truly disgusting how the emotional weigh is reduced for stupid cliche drama !!!!!! ..

Anyway, kyo actively & consciously wanted punishment .He was sure that kyoko blamed him” I wont forgive you” can only mean what it literally means. The purpose of the nightmare is to cause kyo to seek “ emotional death” like kyoko & to loose his path more. It is meant to prepare kyo to refuse tohru even more. Therefore, the pay off at the climax will be better & stronger.

Reading kyo’s inner thoughts will never not be refreshing!!! Also, the slow burn is cooked on low , hot fire , so the pay off will be the most delicious there is!

Side Notes:

I’ve stated my feelings regarding the age gap between kyoko & katsuya in last chapter’s preview post. I’m done with it & won’t let it interfere with my analysis of kyoko nor tohru.

The idea of just being together as a fun hanging out activity without being bothered much of where reminds ms so much of kyo & tohru!! we see them being happy together in the anime in kazuma’s house, shigure’s rooftop, cooking pancake in the kitchen! I really like this domestic feel of romance! it contradicts the notion of expensive restaurant with the girl wearing a breathtaking dress to woo the guy for it to be utterly romantic as we see in movies, & other stories.

NGL, katsuya looked sexy waiting home.. damn it! >_<

I cried watching tohru between her parents, how they acted & how loved she was! T_T. it reminded me of my niece How her dad’s death affected her! She was the apple of his eyes.. T_T.

Tohru is indeed a rice ball! her dad gave her a masculine name while tohru is so feminine! his reasoning is “finding salty taste in sweet things make the taste better & stronger, kinda giving it a hidden flavour”, the rice ball has a pickle inside it & it’s what makes the taste so savory & delicious!

Grandpa’s “ chance meetings could lead to variety of outcomes, good or bad” YES! kyo/tohru/yuki meeting each other by chance. Fiction make it look weird, but trust me, real life has those by dozens!

“ i wonder how lost you’ll be, how much time you’ll need to get your answer”. He will screw up so bad, kyoko! it will be so good! one of the best screw up’s I’ve seen! so painful for him & tohru & amazingly written!

Kyo’s nightmare being connected to him remembering/dreaming of kyoko’s story is bigger effect than opening the ep with it & having the cause be sth that happened last ep, a week ago... the effect is NOT the same.

Momiji is so cute!!! did his curse break here or not yet? he seemed as tall as tohru.

Writing tohru worried abt kyo after seeing him pale is the tohru I know!! Not that stupid girl who watches the guy she loves have a panic attach in se3, ep6, then goes in ep 7...” dahhhh.. Jeez.. I duno why kyo is sleeping until now.. better laugh & make cute rice cakes” giggle giggle...That scene got me so furious even when I first saw it!! THIS IS NOT TOHRU! tohru cried for a stupid story that haru told abt puppets!! she’ll forget the person she challenges herself for is sick?! ugh!

I love seeing yuki & kyo chill & cool around each other.

Kyoko being fully dependent on katsuya can be a factor in her grief, but I’ve seen cases where both partners are independent but still be completely broken after the others’ death. Grief isn’t logical at all & is extremely personal.

#Fruits Basket #fruits basket manga #ch 92 #ch 93 #sad paper #Anime Only #manga spoilers

95 notes · View notes

xottzot · 7 years

Text

2017-5(MAY)-17-Wednesday--aboriginals--Whiteman Park--Bennett Brook Railway Western Australia.

My apologies for any typo mistakes. Still suffering from injuries. And cold. And lack of sleep. And disrupted sleep.

Also, an apology because yesterdays entry was wrongly forward-dated by one day. That was accidental.

I've had to let dear Sam & Max outside very late at night (and in the very early AM in darkness) because Max still isn't well. He is getting his usual dog food but still is wont to vomit at any time, and now Sam is close to being the same.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Last night, also disrupting serenity and any sleep I might obtain, was West Australian Police attending the rented picket-fence corner house. I have no idea why. But it was an old-style Police vehicle with a lockup upon it's rear. - Whether the Police were taking somebody away, or depositing somebody, or perhaps doing something else, I have no idea. It was NOT the Police that was disturbing but the fact that they were there to deal with something and it's all kept secret. It's again one of the MANY times they have been there.

But yesterday there been a LOT of loud yelling there at that rented place.

Today, the youngest of the two boys who lives there, came along on his bicycle on the roads, then went into the yard of the house NEXT DOOR to thm, and he entered his own place he lives at by going through a hole in the fence rather than through the front gate, or even through the driveway gate which is always left wide open night and day for intruders to invade or escape into.

Yesterday evening in the darkness, there was a (Police?) helicopter flying about some distance away, and Police sirens about. And cars coming and going to that corner house in the darkness. And there were the aboriginals in cars roaming about the streets and going from place to place.....

And people may wonder why my sleep was 'disrupted'?

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

I keep saying there is a LOT of lies and crap that I have to battle against and I am severly suffering because of. And that is the case of dear Fliss (Felicity Carthew) and myself.

She suffered a lot because she too had to constantly battle against a lot, and I was her stalwart partner who kept her back and who wishes to be her husband. And I still do wish to be that. -- Much of dear Fliss had to battle against was her medical conditions, but making life worse was the attitudes and actions of others she was constantly having to battle. Nobody knows about all that. She kept it quiet from everyone. And she lied about how she was doing in order to constantly please everyone, even to myself. - That's part of what caused her to become so much worse in 2015 and which lead to her fleeing and returning to her parents in New South Wales who had she had hitherto fled from. - Dear Fliss's internet presence has been steadily being vanished from being seen. It's as if she doesn't exist. - But I love you dear Fliss and want to be with you far far from this hellhole.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

This morning I saw one of the usual 'Watchers' come into the area in a 'new' vehicle. That must have cost money and a big budget for their mysterious unnamed departament of forever coddling and swooning and monitoring aboriginals.

This is this particular Watcher's 2nd or 3rd year running watching the aboriginal CRIMINAL HOUSEHOLD, well at least since I've been noticing the Watchers.

And the Watcher slowly drove along the streets, then stopped and peered at activity around the Koongamia shops area, then slowly drove away. Maybe the Watcher will very well be back on foot and taking e-notes on the device the Watcher always carries.

And before then the streets had aboriginals roaming about on the roads, and the closer it got to the start of school day beginning, which is only a street away or across the street from them, the less you could see of them on the streets. - Don't ever make the mistake of thinking that everything is okay. It's not. They just either hide out at the aboriginal CRIMINAL HOUSEHOLD, or they hide out in one of the many many associated other houses, And they (as they were doing all yesterday), constantly prowling about other areas of peoples houses by going through the criminals pedestrian walkway on pushbikes.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

I mentioned in passing in my last entry about the iconic and large Flour Mill in Guildford (Western Australia). -- It no longer exist there and I'm sure many people now doubt it existed at all.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

This snippet excerpt below about a Walter Padbury is from:---- https://www.facebook.com/LostPerth/posts/675243139213410

His Peerless Flour Mill seen here in a photo from Tim Outred burned down in a spectacular fire in 1975

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

And here below is a really old vintage newspaper article about the large expansive Flour Mill which covered a large area right next to the Midland-to-Perth railway line. The short article will give you some idea of just how large the place was even then back in old days.

http://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/57225273

And now, to add my own little bit of additional infomation that nobody will tell you about, is that the entire place burned down and was destroyed. NOT because of any 'electrical fault' or whatever excuse they cooked up for the public, but because of criminal arson of the place being burned down and totally destroyed.

I found this out when I was in high school, in Governor Stirling Senior High School, which is located was (and still is, but it's been compeletely rebuilt I believe) in West Midland, Western Australia. (that's near to Guildford and next-door to it)

In my second year? of high school there, there was a peron in my class name T.W. (name withheld by me) and he sat behind me in the classes. We weren't 'friends', he was just somebody I knew. And he was friendly. Unlike the aboriginals...but maybe more about them later if I rememeber to tell of them......

Anyway, there came a time when he vanished for some time. His friends refused to say where he was or what was wrong.

Then T.W. returned to classes. And what was striking was that he was now dressed completely in school uniform rather than the ordinary (but tidy and respectable) casual clothing we all wore. It was quite a change for him.

And he was now EXTREMELY quiet and very reticent. A complete change to who he had been. He'd never been a bad kid or a ran with the shitheads, but now he was a changed, servile, person and extremely no longer outgoing in any way.

Over time, perhaps because he neede to talk to somebody about his terrible problems, he confided in me a little. It wasn't much, and he even had trouble talking to me about it.

T.W. was now utterly forced to a highly restrictive regime of just going to school, then returning home immediately afterwards with no detours at all. Almost a 'parole'. - And that it seems was what it was in some ways.

T.W. told me that he and some 'other boys' had broken into the "Flour Mills" (everybody just knew them as that), and they had gone crazy and destructive in there in the large expanse of wooden structures.

He told me of some of the damage they did. It truly was mindless stuff. And he also said that they'd thrown about dangerous acids all over the place.

And admist all that, the place caught on fire.

And the entire place burned down, all the seperate wooden buildings and structures. It was a truly massive blaze.

In the years following, the ruins could easily be viewed because the passenger trainline ran right next to it all, and the devastation was immense. You used to have to hold your nose as you pased in a vain attempt to stop breathing in the stench. Think of a fireplace fire that's gone out and smouldering but still emitting noxious fumes....

And so T.W.'s life then was utterly being controlled. I suspect it was part of his 'parole'.

And the NEWS started all copying each other and declaring that it was all due to 'an electrical fault', and of course no mention of it all was made of the ones who had broken in and caused the blaze.

And since then, anyone who looks up any historical or NEWS references will only see what they've been led to believe thru propaganda.

THAT propaganda has how become established history.

Of course I deplore all that T.W. and his companions did. And I have no idea how T.W. would have become mixed up in all of that. But I also think that at the time T.W.'s life wasn't the best and there was some pressures at home. It was leading to T.W.' actions at school slowly degrading before the incident. - Of course he never revealed much of all that. And afterwards. T.W. never spoke again to anyone about any of the huge incident.

I never told anyone about it. It had been told to me in trust. And that was what kept happening to me all through my life....having to keep so many peoples secrets. - And it has destroyed me.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Also at the same school, around the same period in time I think, there was another incident.

Not with T.W. or anything at all to do with him.

It was at Governor Stirling Senior High School, in West Midland..

It was of P.Turner who was on a sporting ground attacked by an aborigial kid of the school wielding a cricket stump wicket, the kind back then that were pointed and had the points metal tipped to aid in temporarily hammering in the cricket wickets into the ground.

I was not witness to any of it.

But my 'home class' classroom was on the ground floor next to the gym area, and was also an additional open-exit point for vehicles.

That was how we saw a Police van parked there and at the school.

When we asked others about it all, the story we were told by other several students who were where with him at the time was, "'X' went crazy and attacked P.Turner with a cricket wicket! He ripped his stomach open!"

The aboriginal in question was a known feral aboriginal, always likely to go beserk and attack and fight anyone without any provacation at all. (sound too familiar?)

I'm not sure, but I think that was the end of 'X' at the school, and he was expelled from the school.

I later years, the family name of 'X' kept coming up again and again and again in NEWS, in criminal incidents, violent incidents, and crimes ever escalating. Not him, but those of his 'family'.....

I dunno what happend to him. He's probably dead, or some departmental consultant by now.

I believe the family name is of those involved with other aboriginal matters. - There truly is an 'industry' of aboriginals doing aboriginal things for aboriginals and who wield tremendous power and sway but which you never really know about. Nor will you ever be allowed to know.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aboriginals at the high school were becoming a terrible indictment of them all.

Nowadays they won't even go to primamry school. (just see the aboriginal CRIMINAL HOUSEHOLD for examples of that) - Let alone progressing onwards to high school.

Please, don't take that as a blanket statement for all aboriginals everywhere.

In high school they clustered together and formed a large 'gang'. Everybody kept away from them. And the gang members were always trying to outdo each other in violence and what they did.

There was a tall aboriginal kid who's first name was Glenn (I'm guessing at the spelling). But you could see how he was criminalised by being with them all.

The gang would do things like....as a class was outside a classroom waiting for a teacher to arrive and teach the class, they would (as a group) grab innocent & rule abiding students and throw them into an empty classroom, then assault and beat them up, steal their precious lunch money and anything they could steal, and demand that they say nothing to anyone about it. (sound familiar?)

And they tried to get Glenn to join them, but he was a bit resistant to asaulting others. Instead he would help by holding the classroom sliding door shut to trap students who were being assaulted. - This was only his early days as part of the aboriginal 'gang'.

And so Glenn started to become just as bad as the rest of them. He was (or used to be) intelligent, quiet spoken, and polite, and all that began to change thanks to the others.

One day, which I shall never forget, in a Science class we were being taught by a gentle woman teacher who was intelligent but found the aboriginals in the classroom to be unruly and hard to control. (sound familiar?)

They had taken to making it 'their place' at any rear of any classroom we went into. If you ever went near them, you were punched hard by them. This occurred against any boys or girls.

On that day, our class were studying radioactivity.

The teacher had brought to the class from the schools secure storerooms, radioactive samples for us to examine with 'geiger counters' (radiation measuring devices), but that was for later in the periods lessons.

First came the theoretical side of things. It was all quite pedestrian. Some of it we already knew. At least anyone with a modicum of proper intelligence did.

Then we spent time measuring all sorts of things for radioactivity, even innocous things we carried with us like wristwatches.

And we were taught of three types of radiation, Alpha, Beta, and Gamma, radiation.

And she provided us (to pass around the class of 30 or so students) a sample of each encased in palm-sized sections of clear plastic for us to run our radiation counter over with. The first two were somewhat 'harmless' and easily passed around, but the third one, Gamma, was again encased in transparent plastic but this one was also stored in a heavy, small hinged lead contained container all encased in metal with a lock. It was kept unlocked as we each tried it. And we closed the lid with it whenever we weren't doing our testing. - We all knew and considered it be dangerous just as we had been told by the teacher and many of us already knew.

Each plastic casing was large enough to fit in the palm of your hand. The Gamma was the smallest particle piece of them all, but it made the radiation detectors really go very active.

The lesson progresed, and soon would end, so the teacher asked for all samples to be handed to the front of the class. And everyone complied. Or so was thought.....

Then the teacher opened up the metal box to check it (and lock it) and the Gamma sample was NOT inside. - Somebody in the class had stolen it.

She became concerned and addressed the class by asking that whomever had it to hand it over. They didn't.

She repeated. Again no response.

Several times she asked, all with no response. And we kept thinking, "Who could be so stupid as to steal something like that?"

We kept looking around at each other. - And the guilty ones just pretended as always.

The next-lesson sound went and the class as a reflex all got up to leave but the teacher grabbed the door and slid it closed saying, "Nobody is going anywhere until the Gamma sample is handed back to me."

This was serious. And it showed. - She was a gentle woman. A kind intelligent woman, and a she was having to deal with this crap?

I kept looking about wondering who would be such a bastard as to be doing this to her.

She pleaded one last time, "Whoever has it in their pocket, it can make you sterile."

There was some juvenile titters in the class, and then the tall aboriginal kid Glenn stood up amongst all the aboriginals at their desks and said, "I've got it miss."

Nobody would have thought it of him doing it. He was not a shithead like the other aboriginals were at all. (at least not then anyway)

He walked up and handed it to her and she made him put it back into the box before she closed and locked it.

And then we were allowed to leave.

"What dickheads!", most of us muttered afterwards of him, and them.

As far as I know, there was no disciplinary measures taken afterwards. It was just all washed away.

And as time went on in high school, more and more aboriginals seemed to be vanishing. They were utterly feral and getting worse even then as high school students, let alone be honest and good people.

It wasn't until later in life as an adult that I met through my working life, more decent aboriginals, and even then, they were amongst the very minority.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

More 'local' history re-defined and written out......

Whiteman Park

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Whiteman_Park

and

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bennett_Brook_Railway

The page above has photos of the trains that they run there. I've dricen several of the small ones which (at least at the time) petrol engine powered with car engines.

I along with MANY other people worked there.

We worked under/for the MRPA, "Metropolitan Region Planning Authority".

And we worked VERY hard, often in the worst open-air conditions, cold pouring rains and mud, blazing hot airless Summers of dark or black sands, the most simple equipment or the ones that were cheap. Flies, ticks, venemous insects, snakes, you name it. It was like working out in the Australian 'bush' but it wasn't very far away from Perth. - And we suffered.

We had no cover at all. Other than the trees around which were close by but too far away from where we were working to keep us out of the sun in which we were slaving.

I'm sure our existence has been erased away from records as if we never existed at all doing all that extremely hard work. - It's so much easier for all the ol' 'glory boys' to say they did it all.

In winter, the sunlight hitting the trees would make the bark literally steam, it was THAT cold. And frosts and ice would form on any drums of fuel left out overnight which we had to chip away to open.

Then there was the one who were like an 'elite' far above us mere mortals, they were the volunteers who manned and worked and were so much in the public eyes as if being the ONLY ones doing all the work that WE ourselves were doing. - They did things like restoring the trains and locomotives and carriages that were going to travel on the railways we were building.

And we had a mantra upon us of having to build through the bush but not make it be seen that we had been there building it. Crazy. - It had us literally building track ahead of us that we had our little 'train' upon (we had 3 we used, only ever 1 at a time) which we had to cart us and our supplies upon. We literally would build sections of track, then use that built section to go furher and further and kept going onwards building ahead.

I started first working upon the 'light railway' sections. but then later was transferred to the 'tramline' parts. There was two seperate parts, the light railway, which had a narrow gauge and so 'lighter' (so to speak) elements of railway building, and there was the tramline railway lines which was much more substantial and is more like customary railway the world over but which would (so we were told) carry trams. Trams that had also had been 'rescued' from oblivion of Perth' past, but also would have other trams from elsewhere.

If it all sound glamourous, believe me, it wasn't.

During my time there, I believe James Doohan (aka "Scotty" of Star Trek fame) came to visit (for his own personal pursuits in life) and see what was being done.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Doohan

I never saw him. It was at a time I was absent though I can't recall why now. - Injury I sustained?

We all worked under what was then called, the CEP "Commonwealth Employment Program", a program to aid unemployed and to give them skills. - I've got rare personal photos (proof) that I took at the time, of only a part of the time, but I dunno where they are in this hovel.

It's a rare insight of us doing our work andof large areas without a piece of railway laid yet. And those place are no doubt all covered over with age as if we never built them.

We joked it was like working on the infamous Burma death railway of history because of the conditions we struggled under especially in Summers.

The sleepers (the wooden cross ties under the rails) for example were all VERY VERY incredibly heavy and dense and solid Wandoo wood timber. How heavy? - So heavy that crane vehicles struggled to lift and carry a single strapped pack of them from transport trucks that would bring them in from far off counry paces that were removing large sections of track or giving them concrete sleepers or who know what.

The sleepers were incredibly dense timber. And because we had to do so much by hand including carrying rails by hand including the heavy ones, we had to manually carry all that by hand. And it resulted in a lot of injuries.

It all ruined my back for life. And anyone including doctors haven't got a clue and are even incapable of believing how terrible all the work conditions were. Instead they just try to blame me. As if I'm to blame for what they cannot comprehend.

I wasn't the only one who's back was ruined.

And of course 'the volunteers' as we knew them, were completely unknown to us and far above us in status and kept to working only on weekends or in the large sheds upon restoring train engines and train carriages. They never ever mixed with us. And whenever they would come by the would always be looking disdainfully upon us like we were scum.

I don't now how many times we would arrive on a Monday and have to deal with damages caused on the weekends by the volunteers to the sections of tracks we had just completed....

One tiny example was in "Central", the little faux town that was built to house museum like things but which were working like shops..... - We came in one day and found damaged sleepers and we also had to replace railway track. And strangely there was a dual set of tracks made by a tram that had literally gone-of-the-rails and travelled across the paved grounds we had done (and it had been damaged and now needed replacing) because apparently "Rick" had gone too fast around the corner and the (BIG) tram had come off the tracks and almost had run into a metal power pole. (it actually had some slight damage to it). -- Too bad it didn't cause major incident. - We measured things out and could see how close to disaster everything had come.

From Wikepedia, here''s a photo of "Central". See the metal pole. It was that one or the one behind out of photo that was almost wiped out by "Rick", who like so many, did what he did without consequence but we were always somehow blamed.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Whiteman-park_village_st_gnangarra.jpg

Another example was we returned on a Monday only to find entire sections of track we had laid with all the dogs (dogspikes) ripped up from the track they had been securely fastened down along.

"What happened!?", we asked, and the answer we eventually found out was that the huge locomotive they had been restoring for so long (shipped over from South Africa), had been taken out for a run on the light railway racks. We workers had always predicted that it would be a disaster. And it was. As somebody who saw it told us, "It was like the loco went along and was just 'unzipping' all the railways tracks behind it."

And I can be assured THAT'S another piece of history that'll never be revealed by them.

And we had to fix all of it. And do it quickly. As if it was OUR mistake.... - FFS.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Now all the above about Whiteman Park came to my mind because also THERE we started to become assailed by aboriginals.

It was bad enough we had as part of the workforce a young useless aboriginal man who drove a huge dump truck like a maniac whenever he thought nobody could see him. The dirt tracks showed the tracks of the trucks tyres sliding out on dirt tracks because he was going so fast and reckless, and it also showed where he had run into trees. The truck was constantly being repaired and it's big front heavy-metal bumper being twisted back into shape.

When he was given control to drive the light rail train engine, he drove that like a maniac too. It's amazing he didn't kill himself or others around.

Whenever I drove the light rail train with carriages on the long railway line, all the other workers felt safe and satisfied that were being ferried in them along with me.

And one of the most stupidest things you will never know, is how the workforce of us was divided up and made to do tasks that were not what we were qualified for or had began work as, whilst others who had no experience with or doing (like the shithead with the truck) were told "That's YOUR job.". - There was a young woman who ended up driving a huge roller (steam roller kind of diesel vehicle)...but her actual job (which she was also well qualified for and with experience and why she had come to the Park) was to plant trees and bushes and foliage. I helped her with that close to the end of all the work. She was rushed because she had been kept away from doing her actual tasks for so long driving that damned roller. And we HAD to follow ridiculous plans on paper that had no relationship to reality. We were suppose to plant plants that simply could NOT physically fit where little squiggles on paper plans ORDERED us to plant them. - And so we didn't. -- Again, all stuff you will never know about and nobody will ever admit to.

A friend of mine and 'leading hand' worker was Dave A. - And we built an unpowered small railway cart that could be pushed along by us (by hand) along the tram tracks. It saved US, the workers, an immense amount of work hand-hauling stuff about. It had to be small, yet strong. And I wonder if they stll use it? - I put LOTS of nails and bent them as hooks all over the sides. We used those hooks to carry our own personal water coolers so they could be in 'shade' and be there when we could take a drink from, which was very frequent.

The small cart also carried upon it a portable electrical generator (that we stored in teh storerom at night along with all our tools) that was used to power the industrial hand drill we used to drill the holes, which was where we would hammer (by hand and electric jack hammer) the damn dogspkes to hold the rails down into. I never mastered the art of hand hammering the dog spikes like you see them do in old photos and film of old days railway making across the world.

The Wandoo sleepers were the worst to work with.

"Ernie" was the storeman, a likeable gentle Italian man, with his own personality. He would always complain whenever we turned up to get new drill bits because of the damned extremely hard Wandoo sleepers. Sharpening the bits only lasted a short time. Only new bits lasted a little longer. And we workers kept getting the blame.

Please forgive all this reminiscing. - When I'm dead, everything will become unknown and never known. And nobody will care.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

I think I've mentioned it before in my blog, but the entire Whiteman Park began to be assailed by criminal aboriginals.

Many resided in nearby Cullacabardee, a well known of and infamous criminal place, and they just walked over the road and into the park.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cullacabardee,_Western_Australia

They stole anything they could. What they couldn't steal, they often vandalised or destroyed. All news of all that was constantly covered up.

The closer work got to Cullacabardee or any nearby aboriginal places, the worse crime from them became.

We only half-joked that the metal bridge we workers had been building over a man-made pond/lake/swamp might one day be stolen by them. -- It wasn't, and I expect it still exists there today. It was painted silver by we workers then, I don't know what colour it would be now.

In fact if I went there now to the Whiteman Park I suspect that I might possibly end up being thrown out for trying to reveal any of the truths about things there to other memebers of the public.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

In terrible pain.

P@13:31---I love you dear Fliss and want to be with you. Max is very unsettled and somewhat ill. Max is also VERY growley and liable to become savage the poor pooch. I think he's also in a lot of physical pain. Sam has become growling and that is so very much unlike Sam. - Dear Fliss you have no idea how much despair and abandonment we are in because you are not with us.

0 notes