Page 74 of Sisters Under The Rising Sun
While Jack and his friends smash the coconuts apart, Norah and Audrey plait palm strands into rope. When they have enough, they tie the kerosene tins on each end of the branch. Ena has rounded up a group of women who sit scraping the raw coconut from the shells. Some of the precious milk is saved, most of it goes to waste as the overexcited boys are too keen to split the hard nuts in two.
‘Why are you doing this?’ a woman asks Norah and Audrey.
‘Somebody has to do it – why shouldn’t it be us?’ Norah tells her.
‘Need a hand?’
Norah and Audrey look up from their work to see Nesta, Betty, Vivian and several other nurses grinning down at them.
‘Not fair that you have all the fun,’ Betty says.
‘Find yourselves a sharp twig and start scraping out the pulp,’ Norah tells them.
The next morning, women stagger out of the huts and watch as Norah and Audrey place their yoked tins on the ground and, with half a coconut shell, scoop the vile contents of the drains into them. When they think they have all they can carry, they hoist the branch onto their shoulders and carry the stench away to an area at the back of the camp where the contents will run downhill.
With this shining example set by Norah and Audrey, it dawns on the women that if they are to survive and make the camp habitable, they must join this effort.
‘Outside, please, everyone,’ Norah calls up and down the camp. Once everyone is present, she makes her announcement. ‘It’s time we sorted out who’s doing what.’
‘Right-oh!’ says Mrs Hinch. ‘Tell us what needs doing.’
‘There’s firewood to chop, the wells to clean out so we can have fresh water. And if anyone fancies it, they can help us clean out this drain.’
Only a few raise their hands for drain duty.
‘It’s great we’re cleaning the camp,’ Nesta tells Jean one morning as they make their way up the street. ‘But it’s too late for some.’
‘It’s those bloody ants,’ says Jean. ‘And the food. It’s rotten.’
‘I’m more worried about infection than diarrhoea,’ Nesta says, watching a woman scratching hard at her legs as she pauses in her chores. ‘Dr McDowell’s had no luck getting any medicine from the Japanese. And these bloody mosquitoes!’ she squeals, swiping at the air.
‘I’m off to the hospital,’ Jean says. ‘I’ll see you there later.’
Nesta is about to enter the huts of the Dutch women when Norah intercepts her.
‘Nesta, oh, please! You have to help her!’ she cries.
‘Who? Quickly, tell me what’s wrong.’
‘It’s Margaret, she’s sick. One of the women in her hut came and told me she can’t rouse her; she’s burning up.’
‘Let’s go,’ Nesta says, leading the way as they run towards their friend.
Inside, several women are standing around Margaret’s groaning body. One, Marilyn, is pressing a wet cloth to her forehead. They step back when they see Nesta.
With no equipment, no supplies, only the skills she learned back in Melbourne, enhanced in a mine in South Africa, perfected on the battlefields of Malaya and Singapore, Nesta gently examines Margaret. Undoing her clothes to expose her burning torso, turning her gently to see the rash that covers her back.
‘How long has she been like this?’
‘For the past two or three days, she’s been a little more subdued and slower than usual,’ Marilyn explains.
‘I asked her yesterday if she was OK and she said it was nothing, just a little headache. She seemed to be rubbing her eyes as if that was where the pain was,’ a housemate offers.
‘Can you please get me some rags and as much water as you can spare? We need to try to cool her down and get some fluid into her.’
Nesta lifts Margaret’s skirt to confirm the rash on her front and back has spread down her legs. When a bucket with precious water and some torn-up garments are brought, Nesta first dips one end of fabric into the bucket, then gently forces Margaret’s mouth open. Placing the tip of the rag into her mouth, she squeezes and slowly drips the water into her friend’s mouth.
‘This is the best way to hydrate her without wasting any,’ she explains.
