Moshav ­Zofar

Katsyuki missed speaking Japanese. It was too hard to truly express himself. Katsyuki and his friends had been involved in a motorbike fatality. It was something that broke his cohort and he set off travelling. I never got the full story but we often shared our trauma over a few Goldstar beers.

Unfortunately I have lost contact with Katsyuki. I did hear from him once when I lived in Brisbane. He had married a Japanese girl while working in a factory. He sent me a sweet photo of them both smiling in matching tracksuits.

Narelle was an Australian woman I shared a shed with in Moshav Zofar. I was quite smitten but she was oblivious. We lived in domestic bliss with a stray puppy that Narelle loved and, our pomello tree (which I loved) outside the door.

Each day we would drive our tractors across the minefields and out to the polytunnels. We would tend to the tomatoes, melons, capsicums and pumpkins and then drive back with stiff backs to drink beer in the concrete bomb-shelter. I am still in contact with Narelle from time to time and hope one day to surprise her with a visit.