Great Australian Stories Read online

  She then took a sharp-pointed blade of grass called karani, caught a mosquito (mornia) and fixed it on to his head (reri), so that it could ‘bite’ and said, ‘Your name is mornia.’ She also gave him instructions, saying, ‘Yapo mapolio, jirongadda mitjerijoro, go to the plains, close to the mangroves; manungel jereini jauo, eat men’s blood; kumanga kaio mornia, (in) the bush no mosquitoes.’ That is why mosquitoes are always so abundant amongst the mangroves. When she had done this Ungalla gathered her remaining children together and, with them, went into the waterhole.

  There were a great many natives, and, after they were dead, their skins became transformed into different kinds of birds. Some of them changed into small owls, called irre-idill, which catch fish. When they hear the bird calling out at night they say ‘dodo’, which means wait, or, later on; ‘tomorrow morning we will put a net in and catch some fish for you’. Others turned into kurra-liji-liji, a bird that keeps a look out to see if any strange natives are about. If a man wants to find out if any strangers are coming, he says to the bird, ‘Umbordera jereini einji? Are men coming to-day?’ If they are, the bird answers, ‘Pitjit, pitjit.’ Others changed into jidikera-jidikera, or willy wagtails, which keep a look out for buffaloes and crocodiles. Others, again, changed into dark-coloured kites, called daigonora, which keep a look out to see if any hostile natives are coming up to ‘growl’. A man will say to one of these daigonora, if he sees it in a tree, ‘Breikul jereini jeri?’ that is, ‘Far away, are there men coming to growl?’ If the bird replies to him he knows that they are coming, but if it makes no sound, then he knows there are no strangers about. Others changed into moaka, or crows, that show natives where geese are to be found; others into tidji-tidji, a little bird that shows them where the sugar-bags may be secured; others into mundoro, a bird that warns them when natives are coming up to steal a lubra. Some, again, changed into murara, the ‘mopoke’, which warns them if enemies are coming up in strong numbers. They ask the bird, and if it answers with a loud ‘mopoke’ they know that there are none about and that they have no need to be anxious, but if it answers with a low call, then they know that hostile natives are somewhere in the neighbourhood, and a man will remain on watch all night. Some of the women changed into laughing jackasses.

  All these birds are supposed to understand what the blackfellows say, though they cannot themselves speak. While the men were explaining matters to us they spoke to two or three wagtails that came close up and twittered. The men said that the birds wanted to know what we were talking about, but they told them that they must go away and not listen, which they did.

  Before finally going into the waterhole, Ungulla called out the names of the natives to whom she said the country belonged. They were all the children of Pundamunga and Maramma.

  Ooldea Water

  The colourful and enigmatic Daisy Bates (1863–1951) spent many years living with Aboriginal people in southwestern Australia. She claimed a special relationship with them that gave her unique access to indigenous traditions and insights into their significance. While these claims and many of her interpretations of the anthropological evidence she gathered have been strongly challenged, the stories she collected and preserved are of great value as records of traditions that have since fragmented or been completely lost.

  In her book The Passing of the Aborigines Daisy Bates dramatically introduces the story of how the small marsupial Karrbiji brought water to Ooldea, in South Australia. The explorer Earnest Giles in 1875 was one of the first Europeans to discover this permanent water source, over 800 kilometres west of Port Augusta, on the eastern edge of the Nullarbor Plain. Bates lived at Ooldea from 1919 to 1934 and gave this description of the place:

  Nothing more than one of the many depressions in the never-ending sandhills that run waveringly from the Bight for nearly a thousand miles, Ooldea Water is one of Nature’s miracles in barren Central Australia. No white man coming to this place would ever guess that that dreary hollow with the sand blowing across it was an unfailing fountain, yet a mere scratch and the magic waters welled in sight. Even in the cruellest droughts, it had never failed. Here the tribes gathered in their hundreds for initiation and other ceremonies.

  In 1917 the Transcontinental Railway opened and the small settlement became a watering point for the railway line. By 1926 the water had been drained off in a process well described by Bates:

  In the building of the transcontinental line, the water of Ooldea passed out of its own people’s hands forever. Pipelines and pumping plants reduced it at the rate of 10,000 gallons a day for locomotives. The natives were forbidden the soak, and permitted to obtain their water only from taps at the siding. In a few years the engineering plant apparently perforated the blue clay bed, twenty feet below surface. Ooldea, already an orphan water, was a thing of the past.

  Despite these events, Ooldea retained its special significance for local Aborigines, though access to the area was restricted during the 1950s in response to the atomic testing at Maralinga. By 1988, Ooldea was again Aboriginal land thanks to the Maralinga Tjarutja Land Rights Act.

  This is the legend of Ooldea Water.

  A long, long time ago in dhoogoor times, Karrbiji, a little marsupial, came from the west carrying a skin bag of water on his back, and as he travelled east and east there was no water anywhere, and Karrbiji said, ‘I will put water in the ground so that the men can have good water always.’

  He came to a shallow place like a dried lake. He went into the middle of it, and was just going to empty his water bag when he heard someone whistling. Presently he saw Ngabbula, the spike-backed lizard, coming threateningly towards him, whistling.

  As he watched Ngabbula coming along, Karrbiji was very frightened, and he said, ‘I can only leave a little water here. I shall call this place Yooldil-Beena—the swamp where I stood to pour out the water,’ and he tried to hide the water from Ngabbula by covering it with sand, but Ngabbula came along quickly and Karrbiji took up his skin bag and ran and ran because Ngabbula would take all his water from him.

  By and by he had run quite away from Ngabbula, and soon he came to a deep sandy hollow among high hills, and he said, ‘This is a good place, I can hide all the water here, and Ngabbula won’t be able to find it. He can’t smell water.’

  Karrbiji went down into the hollow and emptied all the water out of his bag into the sand. He covered up the water so that it could not be seen, and he said, ‘This is Yooldil Gabbi, and I shall sit beside this water and watch my friends finding it and drinking it.’ Karrbiji was feeling very glad that he had put the water in such a safe place.

  All at once, he again heard loud whistling and he looked and saw Ngabbula coming along towards him. Karrbiji was very frightened of Ngabbula, and he quickly picked up his empty skin bag and ran away; but fast as he ran, Ngabbula ran faster.

  Now, Giniga, the native cat, and Kallaia, the emu, were great friends of Karrbiji, and they had watched him putting the water under the sand where they could easily scratch for it and drink cool nice water always, and they said, ‘We must not let Ngabbula kill our friend’, and when Ngabbula chased Karrbiji, Kallaia and Giniga chased Ngabbula, and Ngabbula threw his spears at Giniga and made white spots all over Giniga where the spears had hit him. Giniga hit Ngabbula on the head with his club, and now all ngabbulas’ heads are flat, because of the great hit that Giniga had given Ngabbula.

  Then they ran on again and Ngabbula began to get frightened and he stopped chasing Karrbiji, but Kallaia and Giniga said, ‘We must kill Ngabbula, and so stop him from killing Karrbiji,’ and a long, long way north they came up to Ngabbula, and Kallaia, the emu, speared him, and he died.

  Then they went to Karrbiji’s place, and Kallaia, Giniga and Karrbiji made a corroboree, and Beera, the moon, played with them, and by and by he took them up into the sky where they are now kattang-ga (‘heads’, stars).

  Karrbiji sat down beside his northern water. W
hen men came to drink of his water, Karrbiji made them his friends, and they said, ‘Karrbiji is our Dreamtime totem,’ and all the men who lived beside that water were Karrbiji totem men. They made a stone emblem of Karrbiji and they put it in hiding near the water, and no woman has ever walked near the place where the stone emblem sits down.

  Kallaia, the emu, ‘sat down’ beside Yooldil Water, and when the first men came there they saw Kallaia scraping the sand for the water, and they said ‘Kallaia shall be our totem. This is his water, but he has shown us how to get it.’ Giniga, the native cat, went between the two great waters, Karrbiji’s Water and Kallaia’s Water, and was always the friend of both. Ngabbula was killed north of Yooldil Gabbi, but he also had his water, and men came there and made him their totem, but Kallaia totem men always fought with Ngabbula totem men and killed them and ate them.

  Karrbiji, after his work was done, went north, and ‘sat down’ among the Mardudharra Wong-ga (wonga-ga-speech, talk), not far from the Arrunda, beside his friends Giniga, the native cat, and Kallaia, the emu. And he made plenty of water come to the Mardudharra men, and by and by the men said, ‘Karrbiji has brought his good water to us all. We will be brothers of Karrbiji.’

  The woolgrum

  This story is from the Weelman people of Australia’s far southwest, now known broadly as Nyungar. It was told to Ethel Hassell, the wife of an early settler in the area during the 1870s. The woolgrum is half woman, half frog. This story, in one variation or another, was widely told. The possibility of winning a non-human wife is widespread in global tale tradition.

  Far, far away in the west toward the setting sun there are three big rivers. The waters are fresh and flow down to the sea. Long, long ago, a jannock (spirit) lived between these rivers who had neither companions nor wives. He was very lonesome in this region but had to remain there for a certain time. To help overcome his loneliness he tamed all the animals in the region and they became fast friends with him. In the evening they used to sit around his fire. The chudic (wildcat) sat with the coomal (opossum), they told him stories of what was going on in the forest and on the plains.

  In times of flood the rivers used to expand over a great expanse of territory, making many marshes, and, since the water was fresh, these became the breeding grounds for all kinds of gilgie (crayfish), fish and frogs [and] the jannock became friends with them too. There was one kind of frog, however, that he had difficulty in taming. This was plomp, the bullfrog. He coaxed the plomp to visit him and finally was able to persuade them to sleep under his cloak with him. He also tamed the youan, or bobtailed iguana. The youan made love to the plomp and this became very annoying to the jannock. He told the plomp that the youan made friends only that they might eat the young plomp. The plomp were grateful to him for this warning and showed their appreciation by surrounding his hut every night and singing him to sleep.

  This kept up for some time, but finally it was time for the jannock to return to the other jannock. Just before he left, he breathed on the frogs and told them that in time they would be like himself.

  The jannock had no business to say this, however, for he had not the power to cause them to change into beings like himself. The result was that every now and again the plomp brought forth a creature which is called a woolgrum. It is always half woman and half frog and never like a man. The woolgrum, being of jannock blood, were able also to make themselves invisible.

  Now, when a man is an outcast from his tribe, no woman will live with him, even though the ostracism is not due to any fault of his own. As a last recourse to find a wife, he must travel towards the setting sun until he comes to the three great rivers which roll widely down to the sea through the broad marshes and between banks covered with thick-growing scrub. When he reaches this land he will hear the frogs croaking and on still nights he will hear the woolgrum calling. He will not be able to see them, however, because of their jannock blood, except on starlight nights in the winter when there is no moon. At that time the woolgrum come on shore and build a hut and a fire to warm themselves. On those occasions, men can sometimes see the figures of women camped by the fire. If they go too near to the fire or make a rush and try to grab the women, however, they find nothing but bushes, and the woolgrum disappear, never again to return to that camp. They make camp in another region where they may be seen again under the same conditions, but it is impossible to catch them in such a bold manner.

  The only way by which a man can get a woolgrum for a wife is by following these directions. He must camp alone near the big marshy flats and live only on fish and gilgie. He must not tell anyone where he has gone or for what purpose. He must camp there until the marshes begin to dry up, at which time he must search for the youan and catch a female in the act of giving birth to her young. Just as the sun sets, but before it is dark, he must throw the newly born youan on the fire and watch until it bursts. As it burst, he must turn to the river marshes, and then he will see the woolgrum. As soon as he sees them he must seize the remains of the infant youan, throw it at the woolgrum, and run as fast as he can to the river.

  If a portion of the youan touches a woolgrum, the lower or frog part disappears and a naked woman stands in the marsh. If he acts quickly he can catch her for his wife, but if he does not move hastily she will sink into the water and float down toward the sea. If this happens, there is nothing he can do to save her. He must commence his operations all over again in another region, for the woolgrum will never return to that part of the river. He will also have to wait until the next winter, when the woolgrum come to camp on the shore again.

  However, should he be successful in catching the woman, he must take her to his camp and roll her up in his cloak and keep her warm by the fire all that night. The next day he can take her as his wife but must hurry away from the locality and remain constantly by her side until the moon is again in the same quarter. By that time she will have lost her power to make herself invisible and, once this is gone, she will never leave him no matter what his faults may be. She will bear him many children and they will be stronger and much more clever than any of the men or women of his tribe. They soon become bad men and women, however, and can never have any children, though the men take many wives and the women many husbands. Thus a man who gets a woolgrum for a wife knows that, although he may have many children, he will never have any grandchildren and his race will disappear completely. No jannock can harm his children because of their jannock blood, and they are always able to tell when the jannock are about.

  The woolgrum herself is very beautiful, but her children are decidedly ugly, with big heads and wide mouths. They are capable of travelling very quickly, however, especially in the river beds and over marshy land, and they have a most highly developed sense of hearing. No native woman likes to think that her son would like to seek a woolgrum for a wife, for this is done only as a last recourse. No man likes to be told that his mother was a woolgrum, for that reflects on his father’s character and implies that he will never have any children to fight for him in his old age.

  The woolgrum are said not to belong to either moiety; hence, whether a man is a Nunnich or a Wording, he can take as a wife any woolgrum he can catch without questioning her relationship.

  THE EUROPEAN OCCUPATION of Australia brought mainly British settlers into a world for which they were totally unprepared. The trees and plants, animals, land forms and climate were difficult for them to comprehend, as were the original inhabitants. As settlement pushed into the interior from various parts of the continent’s coastline, the frontier took on an increasingly colonial character that mingled the imported traditions of the newcomers with their sometimes dangerous and violent experiences in Australia. The consequences of the frontier’s steady encroachment on indigenous lands were devastating for Aborigines and often confronting for settlers.

  The uncertainties and fears of the colonists in this strange and harsh new land sometimes led to brutal acts and dark ob
sessions, even delusions. In many areas, people seized on stories that reflected common nightmares: the woman carried off by ‘savages’; the children lost in the bush. And harking back to the fables, there were even stranger stories of Europeans stumbling onto Australian shores long before the arrival of the First Fleet.

  The lost colony

  The land we now call Australia was known from earliest times as ‘the great south land’ or ‘the unknown southland’. It was the subject of wild speculations, rumours and fantasies about the people who might live in it, the beasts that might prowl across it and the wondrous riches that it might hold. Even before the official first settlement at Botany Bay in 1788, it is said, there was a mysterious Dutch colony deep in the Outback.

  The tradition of lost or wandering peoples goes back to at least the Old Testament era with its stories of the lost tribes of Israel. Such tales are often linked with legends of lost or hidden riches or of utopias to be found in undiscovered or little-explored continents. A well-known late mediaeval example is the legend of Prester John, which involved a kingdom of lost Christians somewhere in the Muslim East. Rider Haggard made use of the it in his novel King Solomon’s Mines, which popularised the idea of a lost white tribe of Africa for nineteenth-century British readers. There are also white Eskimo legends swirling around the tragic story of the ill-fated quest of Lord Franklin, one-time lieutenant-governor of Van Diemen’s Land (Tasmania), for a northwest passage through Canada.