Page 72 of Sisters Under The Rising Sun
‘Where the hell have they brought us?’ Betty asks.
‘It looks like a rubbish dump. And, oh my God, what’s that smell?’ Jean gasps.
The walkways between the barracks are strewn with broken furniture, with litter and rotting mounds of food waste. There are rats everywhere.
The soldiers approach, jabbing the women with their bayonets, indicating for them to move on, into one of the many huts that line both sides of the small street.
‘Who on earth lived here?’ Jean asks to no one in particular.
One of the Japanese soldiers nearby starts giggling and they realise he has understood what Jean said.
‘Do you speak English?’ Nesta asks him.
‘Little, some.’
‘Why are you laughing?’
‘Who live here before? It was Englishmen, Dutchmen, other white men. They made mess when they left.’
‘I don’t believe it. Look at the place,’ Betty says.
‘Surely, they didn’t live like this,’ Jean replies.
‘I, for one, don’t believe they did. They wouldn’t have laid waste to everything if they knew there was any chance we would be brought here,’ Nesta says. ‘Come on, let’s make the most of it, see what we’ve got to work with.’
‘Let’s choose a hut and explore,’ Jean agrees.
‘There seems to be a bigger building down the back, maybe we can turn that into the hospital, so let’s get a hut close by,’ Nesta suggests.
As they walk towards the back of the camp, the same soldier follows them, pointing to two open-fronted buildings. ‘You will wash here.’
The nurses peer into the huts. Each has one long concrete trough for washing and a row of holes dug into the earth along the back wall for their toilet. Nearby, there are three wells. Looking inside, they find they are full of rubbish, and the small amount of water at the bottom smells rank. Dumping their bundles into the hut Nesta has chosen for the nurses, they check out the larger building nearby. It is one long room containing a few broken beds. Slashed mattresses lie scattered on the floor.
‘We’ve got our work cut out for us before the others get here,’ Nesta says.
The next day, the rest of the camp arrives. Norah, Ena and June find themselves crammed into a hut with sixty other women and children. There is barely enough room to lie down.
‘We’ll be like sardines,’ says June, not letting go of Ena’s hand for a second.
‘But we’ll be sardines together,’ Ena reassures her.
‘The rain is coming through the roof, Aunty Ena.’ Norah and Ena look up to the thatched ceiling to see drops of rain pouring through in a steady stream.
‘We’ll find a few palm leaves,’ Norah tells her, trying to stay upbeat, but failing. ‘That should keep the worst of it off.’
‘I don’t think I’m going to like it here,’ says June. ‘It feels like a prison.’
She’s right, thinks Norah, watching a line of tiny ants climbing the wall. In a few days, everyone will be watching out for these biting insects, whose attacks are so painful their victims can only claw wildly at the hot stings. Within days, infections abound.
When she realises this is their home for now and she needs to do whatever she can to make life easier, Norah speaks to Audrey.
‘We have to do something to improve the sanitation here; will you help me?’
‘Do you have any ideas?’
‘We need to get rid of effluence in the drains each day, otherwise we will all get sick. Let’s look around and see what we can find to help us. You with me?’
‘Of course. Let’s go.’
