Chapter 3

“I don’t understand how he picked up that Mencken!” Rachel fretted.

“American literature,” Patrick responded. “Those shelves have our American literature. Twain died in 1910, Mencken around the middle of the century. Fitzgerald, Hemingway and Faulkner are there, too. And others. They’re the easy parts of the taxonomy.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, what about T.S. Eliot, W.H. Auden and Saul Bellow ... or even Henry James?”

“Why are they problems?”

“Well, Eliot was born in the US, but spent most of his life in England. Auden was born in the UK, but moved to New York, James even took UK citizenship just before WW1; and Bellow was born in Montreal and spent most of his life in Chicago.”

“Oh, I see.”

“And what about people like Conrad? A Pole writing in English. Is he a Polish author? If you think animal taxonomy is tough, cultural taxonomy is tougher.”

“Can we get back to Sam?”

“Of course. But I want to get my father involved.”

“Yes. He had to cope with you.”

“Exactly.”

Patrick phoned Gordy. Gordy told him to call Wilgar.

“Wilgar?”

“The elder you referred me to in Cunnamulla. At the CACH.”

“Ah, yes.”

“You referred me to him; now I to you. I recall his calling you ‘Patrick Python’.”

“Yes. You told me.”

“Otherwise, Joshua at Nockatunga. But I have no phone for him.”

“Yes. Now that I think of it, I’m certain I could ask Craig Ardler.”

“Of the South Coast Medical Service Aboriginal Corporation?”

“I think you’ve worked it out. Let me know the results.”

Patrick called Craig the next morning. After a few moments of chit-chat, he broached the problems of Sam’s education: both the requirements of NSW and as a child of Baiami.

“The first is easy, keep him at home till he’s 12, then to a good residential school. The other isn’t so simple. Queensland or the Territory would be best. Do you know Joshua or Wilgar?”

“I know of them. Funny, my father has met both and mentioned them yesterday.”

“Can you take him to Cunnamulla for a few weeks in December?”

“Probably.”

“Have Gordy phone Wilgar first. I foresee an important future for Sam. But what it is is veiled.”

“May I bring him to meet you first?”

“Better if you bring him to Parramatta. I will be there next Wednesday. So will others.”

“Before noon?”

“I should get there about 10:30; let’s say 1100 or a bit past.”

“Thank you. We will be there.”

There were two members of the Council with Craig when Patrick and Sam arrived at Argyle Street, Roy Ah-See and Tina Williams, both of whom remembered Patrick.

“May I introduce to you my son Samuel? Sam, this is Roy Ah-See and Tina Williams, of the council, and Craig Ardler, from Nowra.”

“I greet the Wiradjuri man and the woman of the Bundjalung,” said Sam. “And the visitor from the south coast.” The three started visibly.

“I am chairman of this council,” said Roy. “We have known your father, the python, for many years. You clearly see already.”

Sam nodded. “I am Bunjil and see all below.”

“That is why we are here,” said Patrick. “Instruction is needed. I had one who is no more. My son needs a spirit guide.”

“There is a healer among the Grafton-Ngerrie,” said Tina.

“And Wilgar in Cunnamulla and Joshua in Nockatunga,” added Craig. “Otherwise, he might go to visit the Pitjantjatjara in the Territory.”

“He is young for that. When he is 16 he can visit Mutitjulu.” [Mutitjulu in the Northern Territory is an Indigenous Australian community at the eastern end of Uluru. It is named after a knee-shaped water-filled rock hole at the base of Uluru, and is located in the Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park.]

“Patrick, will your father aid his grandson?”

“Yes.”

“Will you and Samuel’s mother permit him to travel with his grandfather?”

“Of course.”

“Thomas reported that your father had friends in Grafton.”

“That is true.”

“Tina will be in contact with the healer in Grafton. Perhaps Gordy could take Samuel there for a few days in December. Then we will have an outside opinion ... like western doctors. Does that seem feasible?”

“Yes.” Patrick handed Tina a card. “Call anytime.” She nodded.

“You know,” said Craig, “You were an inter-cultural problem from the first time I met you. I can sense that Samuel will be a bigger one.”

“His mother is half-Japanese. Samuel spans three cultures. As does his infant sister.”

“Thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for having us.” Patrick stood.

Samuel had hardly spoken during this. He stood, too. “I thank you all. I sense this is a good plan. May Baiame look upon you with favor.”

Patrick took Sam for lunch.

“Do you think it will work out?”

“I don’t know. I can’t tell. The healer in Grafton is an unknown. Those were three good people, though.”

“Craig is no nungungi, but he is a sensitive.”

“Yes. Can we afford this?”

“You mean in terms of time, energy or money?”

“Dad! Don’t be silly. Money.”

“Yes, we can. But you’re just eight. You’re not supposed to think about such things.”

“OK. But here’s another: the Guardian said that Australian aborigines were the ‘most incarcerated people on earth’ and that they had the ‘worst life expectancy rate’ of any indigenous people. Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because for nearly 200 years we denied they existed and even now most people just don’t care. It’s very sad. Your great-grandfather, Gordy’s father, tried to help one band. Gordy and I have helped somewhat. But it’s not easy.”

Sam was pensive all the way home.

Tina phoned on Saturday. She had spoken to Wilgar, who sent his greetings to Gordy. He would welcome the Python and the Eagle in December. If all went as planned, the next trip would be to Cunnamulla.

“It’s going to be a long trip,” Patrick said.

“Will we fly?”

“Yes. We’ll fly from Sydney to Charleville. I think it’s two, maybe three, stops. It takes four hours. Then we’ll rent a car and drive south to Cunnamulla. Another two hours. It will be quite historical for us.”

“Historical?”

“Well, the first Hollister in Queensland lived in Charleville. He was a railroader. Your granddad knows a bit of the family history. But that would be Henry, who arrived in Brisbane at the end of the 1800s.”