Chapter 2

I devoted the afternoon to writing up the morning's conversation and reading some more about May Hunt. I was now just at Harold Hunt's birth at the end of 1925. The trip across the Paroo at Wanaaring and the Darling at Bourke really fired my imagination. I was as taken by these folks as by Curtis, Good and Allan and Leo and Holly. [King Solomon's Mines and She]

I day-dreamed for a while and had a draft with Jem, then dinner.

In the morning, wearing a clean shirt and hat and carrying my case, I waited for Ted on the porch. He came by a bit before nine and after picking up Fred, we drove into the Park.

A bit over an hour later, I could smell a fire and a few minutes later we were in sight of the encampment (settlement?). It appeared larger than Ted had described and we were greeted by a pack of dogs.

A man stepped forward. "Mornin', Constable. Day-ee Fred."

"Morning." "Day-ee."

"And this is?"

I stepped forward. "Patrick Hollister. I'm with Aboriginal Affairs in Sydney."

"So. Have you come with a pack of armed citizens to roust me from here?"

"Hardly. I've come as a representative of the State with a representative of the Law to ascertain what you and your fellows are doing."

"Come, sit, talk."

"And you are?"

"Tom Hunt. I'm a great-grandson of May Hunt."

"I've just been reading about her."

"Oh. Gran'pa's book."

I was taken aback. We walked over to an arc of seats: two kerosene tins, some rocks, a few stumps. "Emmy! Four teas!" Tom cried.

"Not too sweet for me, please," I said.

A lubra brought three tin cups and an enameled mug and a bark dish of quandongs and some other snacks.

"Thank you," I said. We four sat quietly for a moment. I looked at Tom. "Why are you here?"

"Shouldn't you ask my parents?"

"Not funny. You came here with intent some months ago."

"True. It's a story. I went to the TAFE in Bourke and then Sturt in Wagga [Charles Sturt University has a branch campus in Wagga Wagga]. I studied business. But I became politically involved after Rudd's election in '07 and his apology." I nodded.

"One weekend I took the train to Sydney with some blokes. We went to hear Rudd speak and I met Craig Ardler."

"Aha!"

"I got my degree and was working in Bourke up to a while back, but end of last year I heard from Craig. He talked about the report about Aborigines and about what a phoney Abbott is. He told me he'd met you at some event and that you'd been to the Land Council. He told me a bit more about you, but most important, he said he'd been in touch with a band in Queensland and one in the Territory and one in the Wheatbelt."

"Stop there, please," I said. "If this is inter-state, I'll be far out of my depth."

"It is an' it ain't. You OK?" he turned to Ted.

"Fascinated," Ted responded.

"Right," I said. "I think it's time for my history. Then we can get to your arrival here."

"OK. But you know where the 2012 Constitutional recommendations have that 'the continuing relationship of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples with their traditional lands and waters' should be preserved?"

"Yes. I was in law school when that came out."

"OK. It's your turn to bowl."

"My dad's family has been in Queensland for several generations. My mum's from the West, near the Cosmo-Newberry country. I was born in Perth. When my mum was pregnant with me, a Kangaroo told her that I would be nungungi. When I was a few years old, I spent a night with the Kangaroo and learned that I was a Carpet Python. A few years ago I met my Carpet Python. I have her at home. I went to Scotch College and the University of Sydney. I received my law degree. I have passed my exams. I work for Jason Ardler. I am here to report."

"Can you read me?" Tom asked.

"Give me your hand." He did so. I held it and closed my eyes. "You need not worry about your family. Your cousin will be fine. You and I need to talk about legal matters. Don't fear me. I will not have you, nor any of your group, jailed." I turned to Fred. "Do you want to test me?"

Fred was not happy. "No, boss. I believe you. I don' wanna find out nuttin'."

"Ted, you OK?"

"Yes, Patrick. I'm curious, though."

"Fred?"

"Yes, boss?"

"You went walkabout up near Cunnamulla? Go past Currawinya?"

"Yes, boss."

"Lotsa big birds? Kites and wedge-tailed eagles."

"Yes, boss."

"And you saw Jimmy and Gordy?"

"Sure did."

"I was at Gordy's wedding. I know his wives. I one time met Jimmy's dad."

"Old chief. He long crook."

"Yes. You go get some tucker. We leave in two-three hours."

"OK, boss."

"Smart," Tom said.

"OK. Now, you know you shouldn't be here. This is the time for you to explain so I can report to Sydney."

"It may be more than Sydney. The Territory and the West are involved." He held up his rather large phone.

"Aha! A sat-phone. So you report in, too?"

"Not on a regular schedule." He shifted a bit. "Sturt is a national park. So it comes under the 1975 'National Parks and Wildlife Preservation Act'."

"Right."

"OK. Article 18 of the Act says that no activity concerning the Aboriginals can be taken by the Director without consultation with the Aboriginals and a finding by the Governor-General."

"I think that's correct."

"OK. A year ago the NSW Aboriginal Land Council paid a UNSW student to go through the archives in Sydney and then another from ANU to look at the GG's records. Neither found any document referencing Sturt NP."

"I think I see where you're going."

"Yes, I think you do. Absent a finding between 1975 and now, this is all still Aboriginal land. All of us who have been here these past months can track ancestors to Tibooburra or Milparinka. The land is ours."