The Songmaster (31 page)

‘He looks like he could wrestle a crocodile, no trouble,’ muttered Mick, as Billy parked the Oka. The cattleman’s muscles strained under a black T-shirt. His face was ruddy, a pepper and salt beard smothering a thrusting jaw. He wore a fancy broad-brimmed bush hat.

Dawn was lean, obviously hardworking. She looked nervous, sharp-boned, and ready to spring. Her face was prematurely sun-aged and her hair was cropped short in a practical no-nonsense fashion. She wore jeans and a sleeveless tank top.

Billy went to them first, shaking hands and making the introductions. Dawn Steele made no comment as she nodded at each in turn, Len mumbled a hello as he shook hands all round. He pointed to some chairs in the shade of a tree, in the front yard.

‘Oh, there’s not enough chairs . . .’ He looked at his wife who didn’t move.

Beth cut in quickly. ‘No problem. Jennifer and I will sit here.’ They sat on the ground as the others settled on the seats.

Billy began by apologising, pointing out he was hired to do a job, wasn’t sure where they were going, and he realised he should have asked permission to cross their land to get into Marrenyikka.

‘You should have known better, Beth, you’ve been up here before with those people.’ Steele’s voice was accusing.

‘I didn’t see what was different this time. We come as guests of the Barradja. They’ve been using the track, in and out, for many years. Legally, pastoral leaseholders can’t prevent local Aborigines from travelling back and forth to their land.’

Dawn spoke, her voice shrill, injured. ‘White people just assume there is access on our property, when there is no such thing stated on our lease. We’ve always allowed these Barradja people to go in and out. But when it comes to bringing in tourists, that’s a different matter.’

Alistair felt it time to intervene. He raised a hand and immediately had everyone’s attention. ‘Let me say, that as far as what’s written or not written into leases, it wouldn’t be the first time various lands and local government departments have not got things right. Eventually, the necessary inquiries and searches may have to be conducted. And, as you are aware, tourist activities on pastoral leases would contravene the law, as the leases are just meant for grazing. However, we are not here to debate those rights. We are here to ask your understanding and cooperation in this matter.’ Alistair spoke calmly and gently. ‘We are not tourists, in the sense of paying customers. We are guests as part of a cultural exchange. We are simply a group of interested white people, wanting to learn a little more of the culture of the Aboriginal people by experiencing it first-hand.’

‘What for?’ Dawn was blunt.

Beth glanced at Jennifer. ‘Perhaps Jennifer could explain better than I can.’ Then she added in explanation, ‘Jennifer is a nurse. She is also one of the new young leaders of Aboriginal communities like the Barradja and she has come home to Marrenyikka with her husband and baby to learn the secrets of traditional medicine and healing.’

Len Steele shifted awkwardly in his chair. He was not used to listening to Aborigines talk about anything other than cattle and station operations. Dawn folded her arms tightly.

‘It’s part of the healing process between our two people,’ continued Jennifer. ‘Ardjani, one of our elders, feels that if more Australians could come and listen and share our knowledge and understanding with us, see what we have to give, then we would all find it easier to live together. You are our neighbours, but we do not speak to each other enough. We should help each other, when we need to do so. I am a nurse, if you get sick you should call on me.’

Dawn Steele fidgeted with her hands and remained silent.

Mick changed the subject. ‘Dawn, may I call you, Dawn?’ he said nicely. ‘Is there a specific reason why you and your husband don’t want the Barradja to bring their friends in here?’

‘Look, we don’t mind if these people . . .’ began Dawn.

‘The Barradja people,’ interjected Beth pointedly, and the judge shot her a look that told her to butt out.

‘We don’t mind if the elders come in and do whatever it is they have to do, do their ceremony, and leave. We just don’t want anybody wandering over our land, any time they like . . .’

‘And we don’t want them to think they can start running tourist buses on our land,’ interjected Len.

Jennifer flinched at this, but kept quiet.

‘Look . . . we just don’t want visitors tramping over our land, without our say so,’ said Len. ‘We made it clear, when we came here, this was our lease, we were running it, and there’d be no trespassing.’

‘But you agree that the elders can come onto their traditional land and visit their sacred sites for special ceremonies.’ Susan didn’t pause and pressed on, ‘Seeing as we are here, and we’ve come specifically to see some of this culture, would you allow us to accompany the elders as their guests? We’re not paying tourists, and this is not an official tour.’

‘It’s not our problem that you were misled,’ said Dawn Steele.

‘We aren’t here to make threats legal or otherwise, we are requesting permission from you both, to grant these men and women of the Barradja the right to take us into their country,’ added Alistair.

‘So what is it you want to show the white people?’ Len asked Jennifer, in a quiet voice.

Jennifer spoke for the next few minutes explaining the significance of the country of her
ancestors, how guardianship and responsibility were handed down through her mother’s grandfather and father, and how now it was the responsibility of her mother to look after the place where the spirits of her family are. ‘My mother, and others like her, are getting old. If they die without doing these things, they will be punished. It makes my heart sad that my mother hasn’t been here since she was a child. She must keep up the old culture.’

The simplicity and passion of her words touched everyone. Dawn stared at the young woman. ‘You speak very well. Where did you say you went to school?’

‘I went to Bachelor College south of Darwin. I met my husband Jimmy there. We’ve come back here to work with my people, to learn the old ways from the elders. Jimmy is a motor mechanic. I studied white nursing. Now I am learning the Barradja medicine and healing ways.’

The air had thawed. Dawn got up and looked at her husband. ‘Maybe I should put the kettle on. Would you people like tea?’

‘That would be very nice. Thank you,’ said Beth.

‘Er, I’ll go and help her.’ Len followed his wife.

‘Wonderful what a quiet yarn can achieve,’ observed the judge.

Back at Marrenyikka it was Alistair, holding another mug of tea, who recounted the events of the afternoon, prompted here and there by Mick and Beth, to a gathering of everyone in the Barradja camp.

‘Initially, we got off to a rocky start. But they were prepared to listen to us explain our situation, and they explained theirs, and we were invited in for tea and bikkies.’ He smiled at Mick Duffy. ‘Possibly, all those years of persuasive argument have not been wasted.’

‘So whose move next?’ asked Alan.

‘Yes, do we get to see the art or not?’ Veronica was impatient.

‘We do,’ said Beth. ‘Thanks to you all. The Steeles will allow us to go onto Eagle Rock with the Barradja elders. They are agreeable to the holding of ceremonies – but definitely no more outsiders, like us!’

‘Why not? It doesn’t seem at all reasonable.’ Veronica was puzzled.

‘They don’t want the elders taking visitors onto their land. End of story,’ said Beth.

‘Why not?’

‘They could be thinking of doing what a lot of pastoralists are starting to do to supplement their incomes – take visitors over their land to show them the cave paintings. They’d have to get official permission if they did it in a formal way, though.’

Barwon reacted angrily. ‘The Barradja own
the paintings and know them better than the pastoralists, right, Ardjani?’

‘Only we really know the whole story of the paintings. The Wandjina and ancestor spirits tell us. You explain to them, Beth.’

She drew a breath. ‘It’s not just relating a fable attached to an illustration. There are spiritual and custodial obligations and laws attached to them. Only the Barradja understand the full details. No outsider, just looking at them, can possibly begin to understand the depth of meaning. And the stories aren’t in writing. They’re part of one of the oldest oral traditions on earth.’

Ardjani stood. ‘We Barradja people say thank you. Today was a good day.’ A slow smile spread across his face and he tipped the edge of his hat in appreciation.

Drifting amongst the floating lily pads in the clear river, as the young boys noisily jumped from the top of a dead tree, Susan filled Veronica in on the details of the afternoon.

Veronica had found it hard to agree to Alistair’s diplomatic remark that an ABC journalist might frighten the Steeles, and harm their chances of reaching an agreement. After Susan had described the events, the two young women let themselves drift until Luke called them back, warning about the wunggud pool. ‘We just swim here, this part.’ He held his nose, tucked
up his legs and did a ‘bomb’ from a tree branch, hanging out from the bank, into the olive-hued warm water.

As they sat on a log drying off and the sun sank behind the fringe of trees, Jennifer and Beth joined them. ‘Feel your hair, it’ll never feel this soft again. This wunggud water is magic for hair,’ Jennifer said.

‘So, Jennifer, have the old men agreed to take us to Eagle Rock tomorrow?’ asked Susan, rubbing her hair with her towel.

‘I think so. They’ll come to your fire later.’

Veronica was silent, looking at the dark mirrored surface of the river touched by silken lilac twilight. ‘I love this time of day,’ said Veronica, softly.

‘This is called gala light, it’s my favourite time, too,’ Jennifer said, sitting on the bank beside Veronica.

The four women were quiet, each wrapped in their thoughts. Veronica spoke first. ‘Beth, what did Luke mean by that section of the river, up there, being the baby spirit pond?’

‘Just that. Tell her, Jennifer.’

Jennifer gave them a gentle smile and, with raised eyebrow, asked, ‘Would you like me to tell you the baby story?’

‘Yes, please.’

‘The Barradja believe there can be several ways a woman gets a baby. First, the father dreams the spirit baby. Maybe he sees it when hunting, or it calls to him when he is walking.
Sometimes the spirit baby goes into the animal that allows itself to be caught, so the man takes it back for his wife to eat. It is a gift from the animal spirit power. And when he knows a baby is ready to be born he’ll have intercourse and then say, “I put the baby inside you now”. The mother is only the bearer of the baby, and it is not her only job in the tribe. She is responsible for the harmony between the people and the earth. We believe a baby is a continuing of the Dreaming, and we welcome every baby, male or female.’

‘So the man and woman play equal roles, women aren’t regarded as inferior, child-bearing machines?’ said Susan. ‘I like that idea.’

Jennifer nodded. ‘Sometimes the woman can decide if the baby will develop, or sometimes the spirit baby comes from a place before the father dreams it. There are fertility places, like Uluru or special caves, rocks and waterholes.’

Veronica looked thoughtful. ‘I wonder if that might explain why some people never feel attached to their biological parents? I know people who are always searching for their true spiritual identity. Maybe they’d be happier if they could understand the concept of belonging to the earth.’

‘It’s a great excuse for denying lousy parentage,’ agreed Susan.

‘What happens if a woman miscarries, or has an abortion?’ asked Veronica.

‘We know about medicines, herbs that stop
conception, and the old women know ways to end pregnancies. We need to move to food sources, and babies, too close together, would stop a woman from walking with the tribe. Aborigines love children and we don’t think that a baby belongs to just the parents, it is a result of nature and the spirit world. Everyone in the tribe is its family, and we all come from the same source – the creation power and Mother Earth.’ Jennifer rose to her feet. ‘We women have a lot of knowledge. We can share that with you, if you want to know these things. Maybe for your radio program.’

Veronica gathered up her towel, sandals and sarong. ‘Yes, I’d like that. I really would.’