D is for Dangerous

Things have gone pretty pear shaped. I went to Mrs Nomino (the headmistress) yesterday morning as I was fed up of the way Margaret has been treating me. I already pay her weekly to look after me yet she has been demanding extra money left right and centre and insisting that I buy all the food which she then cooks for all of the people she invites round. I am running on my student loan. I cannot afford to be basically feeding a family of five or so each night. Anyway, Margaret had been leaving me on my own in the hut for large periods of time whilst she goes out to chew betelnut or drink which, after the incident with Alo, has made me feel pretty uneasy. She was frequently coming back too drunk to cook in the middle of the afternoon and she doesn’t wash up after cooking for days explaining the mice army swarming around the place.

I’ve just found out that an unmarried woman sleeping in the same house as an unmarried man for a night is a strict faux-pas here. I can see why. Any unmarried man see’s  a single woman, particularly a white one as fair game. Being friends with an unmarried man here has a lot more significance and implications behind it than at home! Margaret has twice now invited strange men back to stay the night with us. The first time it was her creepy son, Jack. She promptly left for the evening leaving me on my own with him. I went to bed straight away. About an hour or so later he came into my room, lifted up my mozzy net, sat on my bed and started trying to give me a back massage and trying to force me to turn over. I firmly told him to leave and held my ground – trying not to appear weak or vulnerable. Thankfully he eventually gave up and left the room. I did not sleep after that for hours. Margaret invited two more men to stay on Friday; they were drunk and didn’t want to face their fathers. One of them was the savage who cooked my possum. Great, invite two drunk men back to an open hut which contains all of my valuables and with only a sarong hanging in a doorway to seperate us. Cheers for that. (To rub salt in the wounds she cooks them lots of MY eggs which she served on lots of MY bread but that seems relatively trivial) Anyway Mrs Nomino took me away to her house. Will keep you posted.