Because the indigenous people do not like to have their photo taken I have respected that and resisted shooting the kids and families that swarm around this place. The teenagers are here for most of the day but at around 6:00PM a stream of cars starts arriving from the community just down the road to collect take away and groceries - never more than about two at a time - but anything up to thirty cars. I am sure there must be a timetable.
They simply park where ever they like - that includes at the bowsers even though they do not buy fuel. This is all done with much shouting and kids diving in and out of cars. No car doors are ever shut.
Somehow all the plastic bags of food, kids and adults eventually get sorted and off they go.
The kids that are left over eventually head off down the road all talking and no-one listening. There is always an aussie rules football being thrown around, a bike being ridden by at least three and someone on a scooter. They sing a lot in a mixture of their own language and english. They are very hard to see on the road as John discovered in the dusk this evening. I had been saying "Cattle on the right" "Roo on the left" - then suddenly "Kids on the road". "Where the bloody hell are they?" says himself.
Tonight just to add to the colour and movement of the usual evening, a mob of about 7 brahman cattle decided to join in. They settled in under the trees at the front of the roadhouse, where a family was camping in two small tents, for a nibble on the lower branches and a sniff around the tap.
Amid much yelling the old bull decided to wander through the pumps, have a nibble on the plants in the planterbox at the side of the roadhouse front door and then proceeded around the back of the building - all in his own time.
Other than the family in the tiny tents no-one seemed too uptight - including the bull or the driver of the car.


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