ERROL PARKER | Editor-at-large | Contact
Sitting on the edge of the world, Betoota Heights woman Bridgette Coleman thought she couldn’t be further away from home if she tried.
But, it seems, she needed to try just a little bit harder.
The 28-year-old was watching the sun go down over the Southern Atlantic Ocean from Santo Mario, a coastal fishing village in the tiny African island nation of São Tomé and Príncipe.
She told our reporter today that she had her eyes closed, focusing on her breathing. The waves gently crashing on the beach. Gulls and parrots screeching. Chattering in languages she didn’t understand.
A peace swept over Bridgette that she hadn’t felt in years.
The anxiety of spending the money, the fear of travelling alone. It all seemed worth it now.
Just as she let herself smile, the worst happened.
“Nah, I still think the fucking Milk got robbed,” a sharp, nasal voice said off in the distance.
She thought it sounded English. Not the worst but better than hearing an Australian accent.
“Mate, stop being such a sour cunt! The Roosters were the best on the field that day, you have to admit that!”
Bridgette opened her eyes and almost cried. There she was on a deserted beach, just on dark, on the other side of the world.
And she sat there watching a grown man in a Canberra Raiders hoodie walk up the beach with a sickly-looking man laughing a bit too loud.
She closed her eyes again and tried to block it out but it was useless.
Bridgette tried to explain to The Advocate the disappointment she felt but couldn’t put it into words. She just stopped answering our reporter’s WhatsApp messages.
More to come.
