Date: Tue, 16 Nov 2004 07:56:04 +0800 From: James MacMannis Subject: Aboriginal Farmboy / aboriginal-farmboy-07 Author: James MacMannis Subject: aboriginal-farmboy-07 (adult-youth, interracial, rural) Archive; 'Aboriginal Farmboy #7'{James MacMannis}(BB, interr, rural)[] Homosexual, young male sex Adult-youth Interracial Rural setting ABORIGINAL FARMBOY - PART SEVEN Copyright (c) 2004 by James MacMannis This document may be downloaded for your personal pleasure; however, you may not place the document on a website or reproduce the story for distribution in any media whatsoever without my permission. Please email me at james_macmannis@hotmail.com with constructive comments or criticism. You may also wish to join the Aboriginal Farmboy egroup at aboriginal_farmboy-subscribe@yahoogroups.com. We drove home a different route to that by which we had arrived in town. Road crews had cleared away most of the debris of the storm and the going was easy apart from some intermittent rainfall. Chris and Nick, ahead of us in the Volvo, were animatedly talking. Connie and I shared a smoke; I was holding the cigarette for him and puffing on it occasionally myself. I turned to Connie and said, "How do you feel about all that is happening between us, Connie? I would like you honest opinion." Connie paused a few moments before replying, indicating he wanted another drag on the cigarette. "James, you are the most remarkable person. We boys have managed to get along fine until now, and all of a sudden our lives have been turned upside down. I guess we have never had a lot of time to show how much we loved each other because it has always been a busy life for us. Today is the first time I remember ever having kissed Chris, and I loved it so much. Today is the first time I have felt so close to another person as I did with you, since my Dad died. Then I look at Chris and see the love in his eyes every time he even thinks about you. I saw what you did for him at our home and I know it was very special for you both. I don't know if you have had any physical relationship with Nick, but I wouldn't be worried if you had - I can see that he is very taken with you. In fact, I am going to hug him and probably kiss him when we get to your place - I just feel I need to. James, up till today it has just been the three of us, now I have learnt that it is a quartet, and I am overwhelmed by the situation. I am not trying to comprehend or analyse this thing that is happening to us, I am just emotionally flooded and am letting it wash over me." I was a trying to get my mind around all that Connie has just said to me. He spoke remarkably clearly, like a radio announcer I sometimes thought, so I had no trouble in getting the words in. It was just such a huge thing that was happening between all of us that I found myself floundering when I tried to understand it. Even the physical intimacies we shared were a thing I had thought of as fond memories of a bygone time, yet now were so fresh and vital. He reminded me so much of his father, and there must have been a link in his own mind that caused him to think of me as his father, too. There seemed to be too much to grasp, too big an issue to measure, and I felt burdened by not being able to see over or through it. "I am confused also, Connie," I began my reply to him. "I had never imagined I would find again one person whom I could love as much as I love Chris. Yet it has happened to me, and I feel truly blessed because of it. Not only that, but I have found Nick and yourself, both of whom I also love deeply despite the fact that our more recent meeting indicates too brief a relationship in which to form any real emotional ties. I am humbled by this experience, not at all sure where it will lead or what it means for our futures, but willing to put my utmost into making it a wonderful encounter for us all." I could think of nothing else to say on the subject, so I let a comfortable pause descend as we drove on. "By the way," I said a little later, "you mentioned you had a friend at university who taught you something about different sexual expressions. Can I be so bold as to ask about this friend? Connie, you really don't have to tell me if you don't want to. It is your personal business, and I am not trying to interfere." "No, that's fine." Connie reassured me. "Until I went to stay at the university I had not ever lived away from home. I found the life in the Hall quite strange at first, with so many new people around me with all their different, and sometimes strange, ways. I quickly learnt about different races and the attitudes that seem to prevail towards them, including towards me. I saw people get involved in heavy drinking and drugs. I met gay guys and girls for the first time that I could recall, having never though of myself as gay because I am not effeminate like so many of them seem to be. I know I have never been attracted to girls, but I just never associated my feeling with being gay, it just had not been an issue for me before. The whole of this thing of learning to be away from home was a cauldron of emotions and events. In the first few months I could hardly wait for the weekends when I would try to get a ride home, just to get away from it. I found it very hard to study and I was afraid my marks would suffer." "About six months into the first year I met Wayan. He had arrived from Bali, Indonesia, at the beginning of the year and was studying economics. Wayan came from a wealthy family who could afford to send their son overseas for education, but he found it very difficult also to adjust to life in a university accommodation hall. There are a lot of parks around the university, and I used to spend a lot of time walking around or just sitting in different places, seeking out some peace and quiet amidst the insanity that most of the other students seemed to enjoy. Kings Park runs right up behind the various Colleges, so it is not far to go to find some solitude there. This particular day, Wayan was sitting in the favourite spot I usually went to. In fact, I smelt him before I saw him - he was smoking an Indonesian kretek cigarette and they have a distinctive smell to them. He was startled when I arrived and got up to leave. I told him to stay and I would sit with him if he didn't mind." Connie went on to tell me how the friendship had developed from that point, both lonely in the accumulative environment of the college halls and eager to find common interests and distractions that stimulated their respective thinking. Their educational results had improved dramatically as a result of the friendship: the two of them often discussing problems relating to their studies till late into the night. One particular night it was too late for Connie to return to the wing of the hall where he lived, for security reasons the halls are locked at midnight, and Wayan asked him to stay with him. There was only one single bed in the room and Connie made as if he would sleep on the floor. Wayan had told him that in the Indonesian custom it was unthinkable that a guest is more uncomfortable than the host, so he would have to have the bed and Wayan could sleep on the floor. The sensible solution proposed by Connie was that they both share the bed, cramped as it might be, and that way both would be equally comfortable. "I asked Wayan if he was okay with me sleeping naked, because I had never slept with clothes on in my life. He said it was okay with him, so both of us stripped off and got in to the narrow bed, lying side on to each other as best we could." Connie told of how during the night they had found each other face to face, each sporting hard penises. Neither had known how to react to the other, so they turned on their sides again and struggled back to sleep. "It was rather funny, really," Connie said. "We didn't know how to talk about it the next morning, so we kind of ignored the whole thing. However, I could not forget how nice it felt to be lying in bed with a guy of my own age. I had been sleeping with Chris and Nick since they were little kids, so all my life until I left home there had been someone in my bed with me." The story unfolded as we drove back to my home, Connie at ease telling me of his relationship with this young Asian boy. "A few days later," Connie continued, "I was caught late again and had to stay the night with Wayan. This time there was a different feeling between us, we were already past the questioning stage so we just undressed and went to bed. I got a hard-on just at the thought of being in bed with Wayan. Soon after we had turned out the lights, Wayan asked me if I remembered what had happened the last time we slept together. When I told him I did, he went on to ask if I had any problems with things between two guys. Telling him about how close I was to my brothers, Wayan asked if we could do 'something' tonight, which I told him I thought was okay, moving his hand to my stiff member to show him that I also had thought of doing 'something'. Turning himself towards me, I felt his hard penis push towards my hips. When I turned to him, we began to pump into each other softly until we came. Since that night I have either slept with him or he with me, and we have explored all sorts of things together. Neither of us wanted to have anal sex, so that has not been part of our routine." My driveway was just ahead, so I was glad Connie had managed to tell that much of his story before we got home. "Do Chris or Nick know about Wayan?" I queried. "No, James," Connie replied. "I haven't really had the opportunity to tell them. I wanted to find the right time to talk about it because Wayan is still in Perth doing a winter-break intensive course. I want to ask him to come up and stay with us when he has finished his course, then he and I can go back to uni together for the last semester." I realised that he would have to handle this matter his own way and did not want to interfere at all. "Thanks for telling me that, Connie. I respect what you have said and will keep it confidential. Just let me know if there is anything I can do to help you. You know it goes without saying that Wayan is more than welcome to stay at my house with you." Chris had parked his car in my shed, so I garaged the wagon beside it and we made our way inside the house. Evening was coming on, so we prepared dinner and stoked up the wood stove to warm the house for the cold night that was already making itself known. I thought it might be a good idea to relax a little, so I bought out a bottle of good red wine and we shared a drink while we waited for dinner to cook, the older boys relating our visit to their home to Nick and Nick telling us about his day at school. Nick had spent most of the afternoon with the running team, practicing for the City to Surf that would be held the next day. "Where have they arranged parking, Nick?" I asked him. He told me the location and asked why. "Well, I have to know where to take you to, don't I?" He looked at me incredulously. "Are you going to come all that way to watch me run, Mister James?" I assured him I wouldn't miss it for the world. Besides, with Connie unable to care for himself, it was best if I came along to help. Dinner was welcome; both for the food content and for the warmth it gave us. Nick said he would do the dishes and Chris immediately volunteered to help. Connie and I sat in the sunroom finishing off the wine with a cigarette. "Perhaps we could meet Wayan when we go to the Fun Run?" I asked Connie. "He could 'bump into' us somewhere and we could have coffee. I am sure you could arrange a place. That way you could see how the boys react to him." Connie was grateful I had thought of an innocuous way for the first encounter to take place and thought it would be a good idea. He gave me the number and I punched it in so he could speak to Wayan. I held the handpiece to his ear as he spoke, explaining that he had experienced an accident, was ok, and wanted to meet Wayan on Saturday when he was coming to Perth. He had completed the arrangement and the call by time the boys came in to the room, so they were unaware of the little conspiracy going on behind their backs. The boys settled down to watch some TV. I was rather bored with the program, a re-run of a series I remembered seeing some years before, and contented myself with simply watch the boys and absorbing their presence. They were each so alike, yet so different. So refined looking and so beautiful. In the firelight I was amazed to see that their skin took on a different hue, much more of the golden brown I remembered of their father. My mind drifted to that place not so far distant from here yet back over the years. Our life at the Sandplains Pastoral Company continued in a similar routine. Nikolas and I organised the seeding program, took delivery of fertilisers, prepared the machinery and equipment, then, when the rains came, planted out 2,500 acres of wheat, oats and lupins. The season turned through autumn to winter and with it came the cold. We could no longer enjoy our nightly swim in the creek, so we rigged up a small old tank with the top cut off so that we could get hot water into it and still enjoy our bathing together. The tank was too big to fit inside the bunkhouse, but it did fit well into a lean-to shed alongside one of the walls. We heated the water with a fire under a 44-gallon drum. Once the crops were in and the workload dropped off, we took our first night off. Corrigin was the nearest town, and the boss let us have the Holden ute to drive in there. It was not a big town, and there certainly was not a lot to do except drink, so, after we had been to the store and bought up some supplies, we stopped off at the pub to meet the locals and have a drink. We went around the back to the garden bar where most of the farming people seemed to gather. It was a great crowd of mainly young people like ourselves, so we enjoyed the counter meal put on by the hotel and a lot of beers as the evening went on. When closing time came, Nikolas and I were absolutely pissed as parrots, neither of us really capable of driving home. But we had no option, there was nowhere to stay in town and we could hardly sleep properly in the cab of the ute. Nikolas crumpled up and dozed fitfully on the way home, so I concentrated on my driving, somehow getting back to the station without causing any damage to the world or ourselves. I parked the ute next to our house and prodded Nikolas awake and we staggered inside after peeing a lot of the beer we had consumed on the garden tree. Although we had seen each other naked every day for the past six months and we slept in adjacent beds in the same room, there had never been any sexual contact between us. I don't think we were prudish, but for some reason it had not been on the agenda. This night, however, as I undressed Nikolas and put him in to bed, he reached his arm out and held my hand. "Sleep with me tonight James. I need you with me." I took of my shirt and trousers and, naked as he was, climbed into his bed without any further thought. He turned fully towards me, the old wire base of the bed creaking with the effort of supporting the two of us, and hugged me tightly. I returned the hug as enthusiastically as he gave it, feeling a great love for this man who had been my friend and companion at this isolated farm. Nikolas began to worm his way around and I realised with some surprise that his penis was hard and driving into my own. A feeling of oneness overtook any shock I might have been harbouring, and instantly my own penis responded, springing up to meet the challenge of his thrusting tool. We said nothing to each other: there was nothing to say. Our eyes were locked into each other's and our hips swayed to a rhythm that was instinctive and immediately addictive. We nibbled at each other's lips, smelling the beery, smoky breath we both effused, enjoying the raw sensuality of the moment. The nibbling became kissing at some point of the journey, and we stayed like that until we had both reached our separate orgasms, the fluid dripping between us and soaking into the sheets of Nikolas's bed. Watery morning sunlight was streaming through the open window of the bunkhouse, illuminating Nikolas and myself still entwined in his bed. We had not moved at all during the night, sleeping like innocent children, content as old lovers. I was cold and urgently needed to piss, my penis stiff in its usual morning tumescence, so I tried to untangle myself from Nikolas without disturbing him. Not successful in that attempt, he awoke as soon as I began to move, his equally stiff penis prodding into my belly. Scrambling outside, I stood behind a high hedge and let my torrent of yellowish urine flow out of my awkwardly rigid tool. Moments later, Nikolas was alongside me, his stream joining mine as it splashed to the ground at our feet. We looked at each other and tentatively smiled in recollection of the nocturnal activities we had enjoyed the previous night. His golden brown body glistened in the light of the sun, contrasting with my tanned white skin. We drew each other into another loving embrace, knowing that in a remarkable way there had been a fusion of our hearts brought about by the eruption of our semen. "Come on, James." Chris pulled me to my feet. "You can't sleep out here on the couch. Off to bed with you, old man!" I must have nodded off in my thoughts. The television was off, the light off, the fire stoked up and the other boys not there. I was a bit disoriented at first, but soon realised that Chris was trying to get me to bed so I could get the rest I seemed to be needing. I followed him to the toilet to piss, then to the bathroom to clean my teeth before finally getting to the bedroom. Chris helped me get my clothes off and he pulled down the covers so I could get in to bed. Nick was already in my bed, sleeping with the most angelic look on his face, stirring only when Chris had pulled the bedspread down. "It is my turn to look after Connie tonight, James, so Nick will keep you warm." Chris told me as he tucked me in, kissing me gently before he turned out the bedside light. "Sleep well, James." I did. Nick snuggled up close to me and, within moments, I was sound asleep. My dreams returned to the man I had loved. Once again we were in each others arms, our bodies tingling with the excitement that we seemed to always generate with each other, our manhood strong and needing to find release. His lips closed over my penis when he wriggled his way down my body, engulfing and protecting at the same instant, comforting and stimulating in the same action. The wetness of his mouth provided all the lubricant needed for me to slide down his tongue, my thrust met by his own forward movement, till his tight curly hairs tickled my nose. Oh, my Nikolas, where are you? I awoke, frightened from the reality of the dream, and then suddenly shocked by the continued feeling of his presence. A mouth was tightly around my penis, a soft sucking sound accompanied by a spasm as I felt the person gag. Moonlight came through the windows, giving me some orientation to the room and allowing me to see that Nick was no longer beside me. I felt down to the head that was trying to bob on my rigid tool, easing him away from my aroused need. "Come here Nick," I called him to lie beside me. Nick crawled up, his trim body as slithery as a snake as he made his way out from under the covers and lay next to me again, his head flanking my own. I could feel his penis limply against my body, my own still raging from its unreleased frustration. "I am sorry, Mister James. I just wanted to do something good for you like you did to me yesterday. I really stuffed it up, didn't I?" Little tears were rolling from his eyes as he apologised to me, I could see the glint of them and feel them drop on to my shoulder. "Nick." I soothed him by ruffling his hair and pulling him closer to me, his soft cheek brushing my bristles. "There is nothing for you to apologise about. You haven't stuffed anything up. Nick, look at me." He looked up, his eyes sparking with the wetness of his tears. "Nick, I do not ever want you to think that you have to do anything to me or for me. If we do things, it is because we want to share a part of our lives that is very precious and special, not because we 'have to'. I once had a person who I loved and who loved me, and every part of our existence became shared. That is something so special, and I hope that one day you will find a person with whom you can feel just like that. But I want you to understand, Nick, that I love you and I do not expect anything of you except some love in return." "But, Mister James, you have my whole love in return. I will prove it to you somehow." Nick declared. "I want you to please teach me how to do that, how I can take you in my mouth. I want to do it for you, I really do." I agreed that we could see what happened some other time and maybe I could show him some other ways of sexual enjoyment. My own experiences have not been extensive or earth-shattering, limited to only a few other men I loved many years ago, well before these boys came in to my life. "Mister James, when you were sleeping before, when you were having a dream or something, you were muttering some words. At first I could not understand what it was, but then you said it again. I think you said 'where are you Nikolas.' What was wrong, Mister James, because I was right beside you all night? How come you couldn't find me?" I was shocked that I had actually spoken in my dream, and did not know what to say in response. "Did you know that Nikolas is my full name? I am named after my Dad." Nick went on. "Yes, Nick, I know your full name. Also I knew that you took your name from your father. I knew your father very well when we were young men." I couldn't go on without telling Nick that I had been dreaming about his father, so I stopped my explanation abruptly. Nick squirmed at my side, his penis harder now although not stiff. When he was comfortable he said, "Mister James, were you calling for me or for my father?" So much for my attempt at subtlety! Nick was far too perceptive, far to bright to be put off by a crude attempt at deception. He had seen right through me, to the quick of my being. How had he gathered into his almost 15 year-old brain the wisdom of a sage? What answer could I give him except the truth, yet at what cost would this truth be delivered. I was in a dilemma of such a magnitude that I could not even find the ability to clear my throat. My mouth was dry, yet I could feel nervous sweat running down my armpit despite the cold. Nick pressed into me again, harder this time and the adjustment squirming taking longer. I felt him swell to his full size, his penis now embedded into the hollow above my hip bone, shoving its way into the flabby handles of my waistline. "I think I know about you and my Dad. He used to tell us boys about his boyfriend and I think he even told Connie where he could find you if he needed to. It was you, Mister James, wasn't it?" Nick seemed to be getting more and more excited as he pieced the puzzle together. "You are my Dad's lover. I can feel it in my bones and in my boner. There has been something of his love for you born into me and I think that is why I cant help but love you too." I turned to him at last, letting him settle into the newer position facing me, his lips close to mine, his eyes searching mine in that awfully direct manner of his, perhaps wanting to see if there was anything wrong with his analysis and deduction. My penis slid between his legs and he gripped with his muscles, the movement pushing his penis into my stomach. "Nick," I breathed, hardly daring to utter the words, "You are right. Everything you have guessed is how it was. I once held you father like I am holding you now. He once did to me what you tried to do a little while ago. And Nick, I have to tell you that I feel so strongly for you - for the three of you - that this experience is beyond my ability to understand. Oh, Nick. Can you possibly love an old fool like me?" My tears sprung up unbidden, washing from me years of repressed emotion. I couldn't explain any of this in a rational way, but there was a communication of the heart that resounded in my head like the clanging of a church bell on a still Sunday morning. Nikolas was alive in these boys. They loved me. I loved them. Together we could share something beautiful, and that was the important principle for us to hold on to in a world determined to collapse around us. Together we could create wonder and joy. Together we could marvel at creation and we could erase doubt. The whole universe was standing back to allow us passage at this important moment of time. All we had to do was, together, take a small step of acceptance. None of this was uttered. The words could not have come in any case. Instead we simply hung on to each other, sharing the absolute closeness of our bodies, the wetness of our tears, the openness of our love. Slowly the physical part of our love became more urgent. Nick and I began our thrusting at about the same time, he content to push into my stomach and I into his legs as we allowed the essence of our manhood to mingle again. Neither of us experienced the sobering descent from our climatic peak, drifting instead from the heights into a most ethereal sleep. I did not dream again that night, and we woke a few hours later to dull pre-dawn light easing in the window, mocking the early morning chill, and the smell of fresh coffee and a hot breakfast wafting from elsewhere in the house. It was Saturday. No school for Nick, but a big day ahead nonetheless. Today was the day of his race, and we had soon to set off on the two and a half hour drive to the city. We tentatively crawled out of bed, the cold instantly making us wish we hadn't, and grabbed some warm clothing before making our way to the kitchen. Chris had been busy, not only getting Connie and himself showered and dressed, but also preparing a great country breakfast for us all. We ate heartily and enjoyed the coffee, Nick refraining again from smoking. Nick and I showered and dressed warmly, Nick putting his running shorts and t-shirt on under the outer clothes so he would not get chilled in the city later in the morning. "I have been out around the property to check everything, and there is nothing I can see needs attention this morning." Chris told me. He really had been busy while Nick and I were sleeping our sweet slumber. There was nothing left for us to do at home. I decided to take the Toyota to Perth, mainly because it was the roomiest of the vehicles and would be most comfortable for Connie. Another advantage was that I could more easily drive over kerbs or roadside bumps in the high clearance vehicle if I needed to. The trip into the city was quicker than we had expected, there being little traffic at the early hour of the day. The sun poked its head above the hills in the east just as we arrived at the Causeway Bridge and made our way through the landscaped and manicured entrance to the city proper. We had found parking in the large riverside lots on the Perth Esplanade and were walking up towards the central city by just after 0700 am. It was very cold with an icy wind whistling between the tall buildings. Thousands of other entrants and support people were making their way towards the designated starting zone, winding in from different directions depending on how they had arrived in the city. We followed a group from the car park, our feet immediately cold from the wet concrete and asphalt surfaces. The crowds in St. George's Terrace, Perth, were quite amazing. I guessed there were 100,000 people in the immediate vicinity of the starting point. Nick checked in at the assembly area and received his last minute instruction while we waited nearby. Beneath his warmer clothing was his running shirt and bright red running shorts. There was nothing under the shorts, because I knew he never wore underwear. Nick had paid his $18 entry fee and received his registration kit several days beforehand, so already had his number displayed on his shirt and a transponder clipped to the waistband of his shorts. The transponder was used to making tracking of the huge number of runners an easier task with computerised assistance. There were a number of others among the starting group who were barefoot like him, although it seemed the majority were wearing running shoes. Due to the unforseen number of professional runner contestants that had entered the race, including a large contingent from the eastern states of Australia, Nick was reassigned to the B category. He was not disappointed by the change, appreciating the fact that the race had taken on a very different perspective with the higher-class entrants. Once he had completed the formalities, he had about half an hour to wait for his race start. I suggested we get coffee, and headed towards the coffee strip in nearby King Street where Connie had arranged to 'accidentally' meet Wayan. Being taller than the others, I could see a little further over the crowd and was not surprised to see an Asian guy waiting near the front of the coffee shop. I nodded to Connie, who was walking carefully between Chris and myself so that his arms would be less likely to be knocked, and we steered a little in the direction of the waiting man. Wayan recognised Connie before any of the others had seen him and came out towards him. "What have you done to yourself?" Wayan asked in genuine concern, seeing for the first time the extent of Chris's injuries. Connie quickly introduced Wayan to us, explaining for the benefit of his brothers that Wayan was a friend of his from university, then went on to describe the accident while we waited for our coffee to arrive. My initial impression of Wayan was good. He was a clean-cut guy, long black hair forming a pleasantly open and welcoming face, honey coloured skin revealing his Asian heritage. Although it was hard to hear clearly in the crush of people, my impression was that he spoke clearly and with purpose to his conversation. I surprised him by speaking briefly in colloquial Indonesian, a language in which I am fluent because of my long years of work in that country. I was rewarded with a dazzling smile, and we instantly became friends. He was warmly dressed to keep out the chill of the early morning and, unlike the boys, wore open sandals on his feet. We had to keep an eye on the time, because Nick was due to start his race very soon, and as soon as the drinks were done, the five of us headed back to the starting point. Nick was the only person permitted into the actual roadway, being a competitor, so the rest of us found a convenient spot where we could see a little of the starting area marked out in the street. We told Nick that we would be at the City Beach Oval very soon after the race was complete if not before he got there, so he could just wait for us and we would find him. The thousands of runners were an impressive sight, arrayed as they were in their designated starting sequences. We could not see Nick because of the huge crowd. In fact, we could hardly see anything of the proceedings but it was broadcast to the crowd and we gained a good impression of what was going on. I was concerned that in all the jostling about Connie would be hurt, and, before the race had begun, we headed back to the car so we could make our way to the finish line. Wayan came with us, pleased to accept the offer of a ride to the festivities at City Beach. The drive was fraught with delays as hundreds of thousands of people tried to see the race or move from one part of it to another. A couple of times we caught glimpses of the runners, but, although it was exciting, it was distant and indistinct. Several times we drove past first aid stations and medical posts where injured runners could stop for treatment, but we did not stop to see if Nick was there, knowing he would be able to contact us later if needed. Volunteer parking assistants guided us to a place reserved for disabled persons when they saw the extensive bandaging on Connie's arms. That gave us considerable advantage in getting in to the Oval where the runners would soon arrive, but we still could not get near the event because of the crowd. Massive cheering from the throng announced the arrival of the first runners. We hoped that Nick would be in good form and would be somewhere in the leading group. The whole atmosphere was charged with emotion and excitement as one by one the leading runners came in to the oval and finished their race. Announcers were calling out the place takes and line results, but it was a jumbled cacophony of sound to us as we slowly made our way into the arena. Eventually we squeezed into a place in the grandstand, safe for Connie and good enough for us to see into the arena. Quite a bunch of competitors had already collected at the judging area, and I was almost certain I could make out Nick there. The other boys were not sure if it was him, they having to battle sometimes to see over the heads of other spectators. At least here we could hear the announcer clearly, and it was only a short time before the final decisions of the judges would be announced. A lesser noise settled over the crowd in preparation for the important announcements, it was not a hush, because crowds never really go silent. "The first runner over the line was Alastair Stevenson from Queensland in a time of 36 minutes 45seconds," the voice of the compare shouted, and a hundred thousand voices raised in praise of the athlete as he took his place on the winners stand. "The first female was Verity Tolhurst, also from Queensland, in a time of 43 minutes 53 seconds," continued the announcement, greeted again by tumultuous adulation. The first wheelchair participant over the line was a 16-year-old boy from New South Wales and the first female wheelchair participant was also from that state. Each category was announced and the winners greeted in robust style. Eventually the minor place getters were announced, and, keeping in mind the extent of the event, it took some time to deal with the first ten places for each category. Hundreds of other runners and walkers were still completing the course and were making their way into the stadium. At the eighth position in B Category we were so surprised and proud to hear Nick announced at a time of 44 minutes 6 seconds. He took his position on the stand alongside runners his senior in age, experience and ranking. I begun to hear Chris and Connie scream their joy for their brother's win, but the emotion of the day and the pride swelling my heart, coupled with the outbursts of the hundred thousand others in the stands, meant that I could barely hear myself think. I let the moment wash over me, feeling Nick's victory in my own heart, sharing his victory with his long dead father who would so much loved to have been present. When the centre of the track was cleared and the last of the runners had come in and received their placings, the arena became somewhat of a festival. Corporate marquees had been set up all around the oval and were full and overflowing with people eager to see and experience the goods on display by the major sponsors of the Run. A popular Perth radio station was broadcasting live from the oval, their FM signal being picked up by myriads of radios and being beamed through the public address system. Celebrities from television stations and other public notables made up the impressive list of dignitaries that were taking place in the proceedings. Gate and entry prizes were drawn and people won cars and other donated items. The whole event was a gigantic party of celebration, and in our little corner of it we, too, celebrated the barefoot boy from the bush who had won a placing in this notable race. I made my way to one of several information offices and asked if I could get the location of a runner. They asked me his number, and Nick's transponder faithfully showed me where he was. I thanked the helpful staff and made my way to where he had been indicated, knowing that he would not move till he had been found. I grabbed him when I came up to him, giving him a huge hug as an expression of my congratulations and pride. "Did you see me finish, Dad?" he asked me excitedly. "I almost got sixth position, but there was a group of runners doing blockade for someone else and I couldn't get through them." Although startled by him addressing me as his father, I told him we couldn't see the end from where we were, but were proud enough of his great achievement. Once we had gathered the boys together we found a place for lunch and settled down to hamburgers and chips with, of course, coffee. Wayan, it turned out, came from the mountainous region of central Bali and his father grew coffee. He told us how they graded the coffee, his father earning his wealth from diligently seeking out the finest Arabic varieties to blend. His father also grew tobacco and his dark-leaf varieties keenly sought by cigarette manufacturers. Naturally enough, Wayan enjoyed coffee the same as we all did and fitted in very well with the group. Nick commented on the aroma of the kretek cigarettes Wayan smoked but I, who had spent a lot of my youth and had worked for many years in Indonesia, knew them well. Wayan offered one to Nick who found the sweet taste pleasant but the smoke a little strong. He smoked it nonetheless, enjoying his first cigarette for several days. By this time the busses holding the runners clothing and personal effect had disgorged their contents and most of the people at the venue were now dressed in accordance with the warmth. I had carried Nick's warmer gear with me and he had put it on as soon as we met. Live band entertainment was being provided, their music pounding out through massive speaker systems and carrying to every corner of the oval. We decided that we had had enough of the city and we made ready to leave. The boys formed a protective shield around Connie for our foray into the crowds as we went to our car. Nick took my hand as we left the food stall. "Thanks, Dad, for being here for me today. It means so much to me to have you here. Thank you." I guess nobody else would have heard his words, spoken close to my ear, above the din of the crowd. Radiating warmth encompassed my heart as his words sunk in, a warmth that I had not experienced before in my lifetime. I could not respond verbally because of the lump in my throat, but I looked down at my "son" and squeezed his hand as we pushed into the mass of people. This story, along with supporting photographs, may be viewed by members of the Yahoo! Group Aboriginal Farmboy at: http://asia.groups.yahoo.com/group/aboriginal_farmboy/ Membership of the group is free and the group is a forum where members may contribute relevant messages and photos to share among each other. Please email: aboriginal_farmboy-subscribe@yahoogroups.com