Famed Frontal Facade

            by Andrei Smith

 

            The green fields stretched out along the hilly, tree-dotted landscape for kilometers, and the sheep milled around under the cold, oppressive, grey sky.

“Quite the bit of land, huh mum?” I muttered sarcastically, but I could tell by the dreamy look in her eyes that my voice had been filtered out as she took in the dreary scenery.

Ignored by the rest of my family, I struggled to turn and look out the window in the crowded car with my shoulders pressed tightly against Elliot, my seven year old little brother. On the other side of Elliot sat Nicole, three years older, age thirteen. The car itself was not built for the harsh dirt track of the Australian bush, and it shook as its city tires desperately tried to find traction on the wet, deep orange gravel. I was quite unhappy with this situation, and I became quickly bored of the oh-so-predictable Australian gum trees.

“Keep an eye out for Kangaroos kids,” Mum said enthusiastically, with her head twisted awkwardly back at us. “They tend to be on the move at dusk”

Together, as if participants in an unlikely chorus, Nicole, Elliot, and I chimed in a disgruntled acknowledgement before returning to our respective books and gameboys.

When we finally pulled up to 595 Moyston-Great Western Road, we were greeted with a run down sheep fence that ended unceremoniously in what we could only deduce was a faltering gate. After at least two minutes of bickering, I slid into my shoes and opened the cars door. The first thing I noticed was the wind, as it howls with a wolf like pitch and the strength of an army over and through the depressing countryside. As I struggled to find my footing on the muddy, rock-strewn driveway, I felt the ferocity of the pelting rain. Quickly I waddled over to the gate, where I struggled to untie the farmer’s wire lock on the fence, all while contemplating my lack of logical clothing choice (shorts), and what exactly I was going to entertain myself with on this vast plain of seemingly nothingness.

After we parked on the top of the central, and tallest hill we all slowly climbed out of the car, except for Mum who tore outside like lightning, giddy with anticipation. Her excitement for the property was understandable; as this was the first time she had laid eyes, let alone explored, her secret gift from her father. Grandpa Jim had held the property behind the scenes for decades, his personal inheritance from a long and involved split of family property. So, it came as quite the surprise for my mother when Grandpa gave her the property soon after she expressed interest in owning land in Australia. This was the first test run of the property, to investigate it and discover its secrets.

Leaving Dad to pitch the tent and organize the food, I ran over to Elliot, to find out what he is up to.

“Hey Bel whatcha…” before I could finish the sentence, I realized that I was having a sharp pain in my front of my mouth, along the top of gum. I took my wet, mud-covered hands and probed my front teeth, quickly remembering my dental situation.
            “I-sink-my-fwont-teef-aw-coming-in” I yelled to my bewildered brother, but before he can ask any questions, I turned 180 degrees and ran back towards the developing camp site. With my vision obscured by two hands stuffed in my mouth I nearly skewered myself on two fence posts before getting back to Dad. I confronted him with the same gibberish that I had told my brother, but it took quite a while before he actually understood what I was saying.

For five years I had gone without front teeth. Five. Now, in the middle of nowhere, on a dark and stormy afternoon I could finally feel my teeth. I could feel the change happen, as my teeth, the aptly named dynamic duo of dental disaster, made their debut protruding ever so slightly from my deep red gums. The surgery (where men in white smocks crowded around me, cutting my gums hoping to catalyze dental movement) had been months ago, and the promise of the famed frontal façade was very late in coming.

“You… can feel them?” Dad said, as he concentrated on nailing the tent peg into the stubborn ground.

“Yeah-dwad-thas-wha-Ime-sawing!” I yelled, with absolute delight, noting internally on how the weather seemed less bleak after this major revelation.

“Well, by golly, it took long enough. Go tell Mum, and for gods sake Andrei, take those hands out of your mouth.”

Understanding the logic behind his suggestion, I pulled my hands off my new teeth, and I dashed off down the hill, stopping only to wash my hands in a nearby puddle.

With my hands freshly cleaned, I continued down the hill towards to my mum. She was preoccupied at the time exploring a large group of trees near the sheep dam when I jumped in front of her with my signature toothless grin.

“Yes Andrei?” She said, the look of surprise still on her face.

“I’m getting my teeth in, I’m gonna have teeth, mum look, look at my gums!” I got closer to her, frontal gums protruding slightly from my lips.
            “Uh, wow Andrei, that’s great! Why don’t you go… show Dad?” She said to me, dismissing the revolution that I was sure was working away under my soft red tissue

The next week we all piled back into the car and drove down to the small town nearby. Ararat was steeped in family history, with some of my mother’s old relatives had once upon a time owning the town newspaper. After the gold rush the town slowly collapsed in on itself, settling into a small main street chock full of Australian Bakeries and hardware stores.

            The Bakeries of Australia are a mark of pride for many native born kids, with their gloriously meaty sausage rolls and the Coconut lamingtons that always managed to leave chocolate on your hands even with an overabundance of napkins. As my small ten year-old hands wrapped tightly around a warm sausage roll, my sensitive mouth raced into action, warning against the paint that would follow. For years even lukewarm items had seared my front gums, often leaving them numb, and always uncomfortable. Accepting this as a way of life, I generally stayed away from the more temperate food items, but now I began to see the true use of frontal incisors. As I contemplated the wonderful implications of front teeth, my little brother grew a fancy for my sausage roll.

“mmm… arrrhhhhhh!” was the sound that came as the 6 year old peewee lunged at my steaming meat cylinder. I quickly pulled it back away from him, and as he attacked half-heartedly my left side, I stuck the pastry into my mouth. My protruding teeth, though sore, immediately found the crunchy roll to be delicious. My previously unusable utensils had in one week evolved into an important and impressive toolbox to be used as I saw fit. I felt like I could conquer the world with these teeth.

 

****

 

            The rain clouds at Rhymney soon brought a thunderstorm, whose torrential rains were only matched by its loud cracks of thunder. The smell that I had grown accustomed to on the property changed, no longer a damp smell of dirt and soaked grasses, but rather a clean fresh smell that was welcome after the previous monotony. The trees cast stark shadows as the nearby lightning lit the sky, and the clouds churned and undulated like an ocean storm. The terrible power of this scared my family and I into the car, leaving us stranded and soaked, with only the car fans to dry us. We sat for hours merely gazing out into the abyss, our faces lacking any discernable emotion. No longer did the high pitched squeaks and bright flashing monotone pixels draw me to my gameboy, as my senses wheeled in awe of the uncontrollable storm that was playing out right outside of the car.

 

With this I understood the draw of Rhymney. It was not a place to go to be entertained, nor a place to hold onto, but rather a place to quietly observe and explore. The knowledge of the land was not quantified in any textbook laws, as it held only as many secrets as one wanted to find. My existence on this land was unimportant and I could feel the disconnect with the size of the land and myself. These thoughts dominating my conscious and stealing my sleep, I sought refuge with the chocolate mounds of a nearby granola bar.

 

****

 

            The next morning we all huddled around the fire for warmth, watching as the storm drifted away, its power lessened by the clear skies and gentle breeze that pushed it out of our sight. All the while my teeth came in, quicker than others because of the surgery, spearing through my gums. I placed my right index finger on my front teeth, checking on their progress.

 

****

            Now years later, I look back in wonder at what all the fuss was about. My teeth came in straight and tall, and we now stay in a small house on the land when we visit. Mum still wanders the paddocks gazing at the trees, conversing with her old friends. Rhymney is where I learnt about nature, not the nature of TV documentaries but the rhythm of nature on the land where rain is the life-blood, not a curse, where the sun is the energy that drives the engine on which we all ultimately depend.