Page 103 - moondani kyema
P. 103
ndani kyema, My Story - Ray Moore 103
had to do each day was to hop on the tractor which had a scarifier attached. The
scarifier is just an array of spikes which help break up the soil after an initial
ploughing. In this case I had to use the scarifier to break up the clods of cow poo to
spread them around the paddock where they would perform better as a fertiliser for
the grass or next year’s spuds.
Another Christmas I was invited to the Mallee to a little town called Rainbow to help
on a farm during the wheat harvest. I had lived in China most of my life, but had
read and dreamed about the Australian outback. So when I arrived in the Mallee it
started a lifelong love affair with the place. Rainbow was a town of about 1,000
people, situated on a flat plain where the highest hill for hundreds of miles would rise
twenty feet above the surrounding land. There were one or two higher hills, and
these were called “mountains” and were well known landmarks. All the towns in this
wheat growing country were characterised by their huge silos, and you could see
Rainbow’s silos from 20 kilometres away as you approached on the road from
Warracknabeal.
About 16 or 18 kilometres out from Rainbow, along a dirt road that wound between
mallee gums and over sandhills, I came to the Allen’s property. Maud Allen was a
widow and she was also my boss and my host, both of which tasks she did well. But
her eldest son Ian ran the farm and did all the work around the place. The Mallee
people are very hospitable and I was soon feeling part of the family. I also loved the
job I was given. Ian drove the big machine that harvested the wheat and then he
brought it to the corner of the paddock where he loaded the wheat into the truck with
the big bin on the back. When this was full, I drove it the 18 kilometres into Rainbow
to the silo and parked in the queue waiting to unload. I soon made friends with other
drivers, many of whom were members of farming families, but some of whom were
contract drivers.
When my turn came, I went over the weighbridge and collected my ticket and then to
the silo where I undid the locks at the back of the tray where the swinging door
allowed the wheat to flow out. Then I activated the tipping mechanism and the tray
tipped up and the wheat flowed into the large receptacle at the bottom of the silo and
then was lifted up to the top by an auger where it was finally emptied into the silo. I
went back across the weighbridge and had the empty truck weighed, thus giving an
accurate calculation of the amount of wheat delivered by the Allens.
When I finished my training for the Baptist ministry some years later, my first church
was at Rainbow and I felt quite at home. As a rooky minister, I loved going out to
visit the farmers and talk with them as they worked on the myriad jobs that took up
their time. Farmers don’t want to have visitors when they are harvesting, so again I
offered to drive their wheat trucks in to the
silo for them. I also used my amateur
ability at signwriting to put their names on
their newly acquired farm trucks or, in one
case, on a speed boat called after the
farmer’s daughter, Michelle.
While still studying in Melbourne, my
brother started a gardening agency and
asked me if I would like to work for him on
Saturdays. This was interesting as most
had to do each day was to hop on the tractor which had a scarifier attached. The
scarifier is just an array of spikes which help break up the soil after an initial
ploughing. In this case I had to use the scarifier to break up the clods of cow poo to
spread them around the paddock where they would perform better as a fertiliser for
the grass or next year’s spuds.
Another Christmas I was invited to the Mallee to a little town called Rainbow to help
on a farm during the wheat harvest. I had lived in China most of my life, but had
read and dreamed about the Australian outback. So when I arrived in the Mallee it
started a lifelong love affair with the place. Rainbow was a town of about 1,000
people, situated on a flat plain where the highest hill for hundreds of miles would rise
twenty feet above the surrounding land. There were one or two higher hills, and
these were called “mountains” and were well known landmarks. All the towns in this
wheat growing country were characterised by their huge silos, and you could see
Rainbow’s silos from 20 kilometres away as you approached on the road from
Warracknabeal.
About 16 or 18 kilometres out from Rainbow, along a dirt road that wound between
mallee gums and over sandhills, I came to the Allen’s property. Maud Allen was a
widow and she was also my boss and my host, both of which tasks she did well. But
her eldest son Ian ran the farm and did all the work around the place. The Mallee
people are very hospitable and I was soon feeling part of the family. I also loved the
job I was given. Ian drove the big machine that harvested the wheat and then he
brought it to the corner of the paddock where he loaded the wheat into the truck with
the big bin on the back. When this was full, I drove it the 18 kilometres into Rainbow
to the silo and parked in the queue waiting to unload. I soon made friends with other
drivers, many of whom were members of farming families, but some of whom were
contract drivers.
When my turn came, I went over the weighbridge and collected my ticket and then to
the silo where I undid the locks at the back of the tray where the swinging door
allowed the wheat to flow out. Then I activated the tipping mechanism and the tray
tipped up and the wheat flowed into the large receptacle at the bottom of the silo and
then was lifted up to the top by an auger where it was finally emptied into the silo. I
went back across the weighbridge and had the empty truck weighed, thus giving an
accurate calculation of the amount of wheat delivered by the Allens.
When I finished my training for the Baptist ministry some years later, my first church
was at Rainbow and I felt quite at home. As a rooky minister, I loved going out to
visit the farmers and talk with them as they worked on the myriad jobs that took up
their time. Farmers don’t want to have visitors when they are harvesting, so again I
offered to drive their wheat trucks in to the
silo for them. I also used my amateur
ability at signwriting to put their names on
their newly acquired farm trucks or, in one
case, on a speed boat called after the
farmer’s daughter, Michelle.
While still studying in Melbourne, my
brother started a gardening agency and
asked me if I would like to work for him on
Saturdays. This was interesting as most
