Finally Something "Right" – the Croot Farms
The surest bets in Kununurra are the Croot Farms and Oasis Farms for their rather civilized treatment of workers. The two are my indisputable recommendations, although they still fall far from what would be socially acceptable norms elsewhere in the First World.
I spent two months working for the latter, liking the fact that I was not abused verbally. The farmer and his two adolescent children related to their workers with respect and kindness. They were stern with regard to workload and ridiculously exact down to the minute when it came to breaks. They mastered a double speech whereby what workers heard from the boss sounded pleasing and encouraging, while the undercover meaning was calculated and mundane. The drive for profit beat any human rights rhetoric and that’s pretty much how the entire world goes around. It didn’t really matter, to tell you the truth, as long as we received a case of cold beer on Friday afternoon from the boss!
One thing is sure, though. By the time you leave the Croot Farms in a hurry to make it to Southeast Asia, you will be able to recognize a dozen kinds of pumpkins and watermelons. You will be shaped like an athlete and tanned like a surfer dude. And, what’s important, the farmers will pay you, however little, for that.
Every day, seven days a week, you will see the sunrise and sun set from the plains of the field. You will learn to tell time by the position of the sun in the sky and watch with awe the glow of the bush fire overwhelming the horizon. The weather will turn more unbearable as the months progress. By 7am the sweat will pour down your skin as you grapple with the prospect of a ten-hour day ahead of you. You will become a master of internal dialogue, going over your entire life as you progress with the clippers along the unending row. Towards the end of the day, your mind will cease its intelligent functions, making you look more like a human machine following a high powered tractor.
You will be driven back across picturesque fields to your caravan park where simple joys of life, such as a good dinner, cigarette, and the company of friends will make you feel alive again. You will share a good laugh with others, enjoy a cold beer, and remind each other that you are here only temporarily.
You will forever cherish a special connection with the persons you will befriend while working in Australia. Words cannot convey the feeling of frustration and impatience you might have occasionally, and you will question the sanity of your decision to work in the pumpkin field for a disrespectful, arrogant farmer, and his self destructive son.
When you stand inside a 6 foot cardboard box, choking on the air full of itching bits of straw while pumpkins keep pounding down in your hands, your whole body will be subject to resistance caused by doubt. Moreover, if you follow the tractor while blindly tossing hundreds of pumpkins into the arms of your mate in the 40 degree sun, you will face two choices. Either feel miserable, or make the best of your condition with your friends. Fool around, crack stupid jokes, and don’t ever think twice over what you’re doing at the moment. Your mind can only spoil your mood if you ponder over your state.
One look around and you will see that you are not alone. The majority of workers in Kununurra are no different, backpackers who ran out cash, have no work visa but want to see the world. Therefore, you will support each other naturally and, as in the course of this, become the best of companions and friends. Towards the end of the week you will receive a paycheck that will make you feel good and pay for beer. Another day gone before your departure.
When I finally left Kununurra I genuinely felt as if I had served a jail sentence. The sensation of freedom was augmented by the comforts of which I had nearly forgotten. In Darwin I slept in bed, swam in the pool, ate restaurant food, and knew little what to do with so much time on hand. The experience of lightness and freedom was so liberating that for a moment I felt disoriented. Before I knew it I was on the airplane to Bangkok, Aussie dollars exchanged into American currency, looking at Australia disappear underneath the clouds. I could care less about Kununurra and its farmers…
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