It’s strange how such a cute and simple little thing could generate so much emotion and generosity of spirit. A most unlikely player in a most unique circumstance.

During World War II, community life in the remote isolated highland village of Tasmania struggled on. A dam was being built across the Derwent River in a steep former glacial valley. Extreme conditions dominated the wild eucalypt rainforests. A strong community spirit kept the construction village people united against the harsh climate. Most of the workers were migrant single men with a minority of married men with wives and families. It was a six-day working week with only Sundays available for urgent attempts at village entertainment.

The highlight was a monthly variety stall. Supplies from outside the village were rare, so things were made, sold and re-sold. The profits were collected by the small group of wives who made up the Country Women’s Association or CWA. The money was used to support the War effort. Usually to buy string for making nets and hammocks or wool for knitting socks and half-fingered gloves.

As children we received very little news of the War. We gathered our most currrent information from amongst the crackles on the wireless. A song about a Japanese painted doll captured our imagination. We decided to make our own version with the Butlers Gorge painted doll. One of my sisters had an unloved bakelite gollywog. With much artistic gusto, we raided dad’s shed and splashed the doll with an array of colours from partly used tins of paint.

One sister described it as disgustingly ugly, but the rest of us thought it was beautiful and no doubt very valuable. We offered it as our effort to the monthly stall. The village people were very kind and generous towards the CWA and all articles were sold. It was with great glee that we saw our painted doll sold.