Kympatti Bears

A SITE FOR SORE EYES

Some time ago I received a postcard from Tashkent, a city west of Suez which is definitely no place for a teddy bear. Having said that, my correspondent was a bear, one whom I have known for many years and who occasionally sent cards from remote outposts of civilisation to rekindle old memories.

This fellow (naturally of the Kympatti persuasion), was originally known as Norton. However, due to an unusual set of circumstances he changed his name and sought fame as a world traveller and member of an international medical team.

His tale is not only interesting and worth retelling, but is surely an inspiration to bears of dignity everywhere,

His adventures began some years ago when Patti and I were returning from a teddy shop delivery and workshop in North Queensland. It was mid January 1988 and the wet season (remember them?) was still causing havoc in the tropics. We had been fortunate in avoiding any highway flooding between Carirns and Sarina, but the edge of a category four cyclone caught us just south of Rockhampton.

We were at a place called 'Nulla Flat', where there was flood water six inches deep (and rising) flowing across the road. These conditions tend to develop with alarming speed in the north and by the time we'd traversed those flat we were driving in a metre of flowing water with the doors open to keep the vehicle on the road. It was a damp crossing and we were the last travellers to reach the safety of the tiny flood isolated township of 'Howard'. Our only casualties were some seriously wet bruins travelling in cartons at the rear of the van.

In the township, where there were a dozen or so other stranded motorists, we learned that the town's limited accommodation was already completely booked out.

The cheerless prospect of a car-bound night loomed large ... that is until the proprietor of the only pub in town invited us one and all to spend the night in the lounge and bar areas of his hotel. Of course an old two storey wooden country pub is a dubious shelter in a cyclone, but we gratefully accepted.

As the wind and rain clawed at the tiny township throughtout night the bar ran a steady trade and the old combustion stove in the kitchen churned out hot food by the light of kero lamps. It may have been a filthy, periolous night abroad, but we were well lubricated and loquacious gathering in the lounge.

Then, sometime during wee hours, as conversation flagged we mentioned that teddy bears were the purupose for our journey. This caused a glimmer of interest in some folk and suggestions were made that we invite some of these bears to the party. This sounded like a good idea, if only to assess the damage and to dry any bruins capable of salvage.

So donning the Driza-bone I hauled two wet cartons into the pub for unpacking. Fortunately only the bottom eight inches of these cartons had been submerged and most of the bears were in good shape.

By now we had the attention of most of the folk around us and by the flickering light of the kero lamps these teddies really did strut their stuff. It was not loo long before several had sorted out adoptive parents. However, there was one teddy who urgently needed some TLC! He seemed to have used his body to plug an opening in the folded bottom of the carton he was in. It was an heroic action and one that had certainly saved the lives of many of his companions.

Yes, you've guessed it ... this was our Norton! Of course there were some present, particularly in the bar area who were too far 'in the bag' to appreciate any bear (except maybe one on the Bundly bottle). And there was one lady present who seemed aloof and who treated this teddy bear foolishness with disdain. Well, at least she appeared that way ... until we unpacked Norton...

to be continued