Sigh.
I still fantasise about Congo Bongo.
I’m on the phone to Rosie telling her how I was raced out by the Africans.
Yes, the other one was a female from Kenya.
‘And I would love nothing better than to smash his head on the pavement and make Bongo omelettes for breakfast.’
Rosie laughs. She knows I'm serious about it.
Rosie, did you know that Bongo came to Australia in 2007?
And that he was slated to go to America under an Obama deal?
'Hmmm.'
But then Australia agreed to take a new batch of refugees from Rwanda.
It consisted mostly of preachers and social workers who were caught between the cross fires of the liberating armies encroaching from the border countries of Burundi, Congo, and Uganda.
‘You don’t know who I am.’
That's what Bongo said to me after I told him to stop slamming the door.
‘I remember it very well,’ said Rosie, on the end of a phone, a great listener with all the right responses. I suspect she has a crush on me.
'And I've seen a gang of these liberation fighters outside my house.'
Yes, Bongo and his friends.
Darker than the ace of Spade with District 7, 8 and 9 their new turf.
Rosie tells me her husband Melvin has been dead over thirty years now. He used to be an accountant on Christmas Island.
And now I’m the only single male that visits her.
She has the Indians swarming, but she’s not interested in those snakes.
'Bongo was in the same division as the Rwandan Liberation Army,' I continued, a terrorist group that targeted American tourists.
Mr. T was second in charge.
Do you remember that sitcom in the eighties Rosie?
Yes, I do.
Of course, she didn’t but I’ll show her on YouTube later to prod her memory.
Mr T was an African America, or Negro who acted on the television series The A Team. And I know after Michael Jackson, Mr. T is the next most loved American of all time for Malaysians.
‘Ahhh,’ emits Rosie.
So she's not asleep.
She’s been caught out and knows it.
She likes to tease me as well.
She knows a lot more than she ever lets on.
I just happen to know she’s clued in.
Bongo loves dressing up as an American gangster.
He's a spitting image of Mr. T.
He wears lots of fake gold chains, crosses and baggy gangster pants.
Bongo is smart but plays dumb.
'I know everything,' he says.
He thinks he has a direct line to God.
He is an evangelist.
That's what he calls himself on his twitter handle.
A great cover, it fools the do goodie Christians every time.
‘It’s obvious,’ said Rosie, who has woken up and wants to get me off the line, ‘that the UNHCR faked his documents and facilitated his entry into Australia.’
Totally agree, Rosie.
You don’t live on Christmas Island without learning a thing or two about refugees.
‘I fucking cleaned their latrines.’
God bless you Rosie, we’ll talk soon.
