Chapter 9: Adelaide

Sam felt guilty. He’d enjoyed both Gudrun and Karen, but had he taken advantage of them? Or had they been taking advantage of him? He hadn’t taken advantage of Meena or Susan. They’d moved on him. But Gudrun had spoken to him first. And invited him to the party. Perhaps he was a patient, not an agent.

Not quite ten. There would be a phone at Tandanya and he’d call Sarah from there. There was. Sam arranged to visit “after lunch.” At the entry to Tandanya there was a display about Dreamtime and he thought about the teachings.

My name is Warren Foster, I come from the Yuin-Monaro tribe of Wallaga Lake, far south coast of New South Wales.

Why these stories are being told is because they keep our culture alive. Keeps us living and knowing that we’re living. ‘Cos these stories they were handed down by word of mouth for generations upon generations for thousands of years.

The reason that we tell these stories is to know where we’re coming from. Gives us an identity of the people. And if we know where we’re coming from, we know where we’re going. As long as we keep telling these stories we know that our culture is alive and running strong through our veins.

Why I like telling the stories is because it’s keeping the culture alive. As I get older, I’m going to pass it down to younger generations so that they get interested in it and that they keep the culture going.

I’d like to see more young blackfellas get right into their culture and start learning more about their culture.

Knowing their stories, their songs and dance and art. Keep it alive.

(Warren Foster. Wallaga Lake, New South Wales, 1998)

It was Saturday and there was an older man painting a large canvas. Sam watched in silence.

“What do you see?”

“A group of youths hunting for a goanna.”

“Can you see their prey?”

“I see two. A goanna on the rocks and a perentie in the tree.”

“Your eyes are as sharp as an eagle’s.”

“Bunjil is my totem.”

“Then leave me! I am a pebble-mound mouse and not your goal!”

“Can you direct me?”

“Further west. Further north. I see no more. Now go!”

Sam wandered to another exhibit hall. He was puzzled. He didn’t even know the painter. He had just been both north and west. Coober Pedy and Marla were north and west. Marree was north, too, but not west. The stories in the pictures and on some objects reassured him. What had Aunty Beryl said? “The stories are embedded with the lore that governs this whole land. The air, the land, the environment, the universe, the stars.”

When and where and from whom would he get direction?

Sam left and went outside. He walked back to the hotel, took Murder Must Advertise and found an outdoor bench where he read of Bredon’s arrival at Pym’s agency. At noon he walked to Osteria Oggi for a lunch of pasta and a salad with a glass of wine, and then continued along Grenfell, buying some flowers from a street vendor.

Sarah greeted Sam when he arrived. After shaking hands with Henry he asked “Where’s my little niece?”

“Your ‘little niece’ is eleven going on 35 and is visiting her grandparents in Canberra. At last phone call, she’s taking a course in Japanese flower arranging.”

“Oh. Wow.”

“Yeah. I think so, too,” Henry added.

“So,” said Sarah, “You’ve been bumming for two-three months, right? Tell us all!”

Sam laughed. “Not quite all. You’re my auntie, after all.”

So, over a South Australian white, he told of the mysterious lorry-ride from Broken Hill, his time along the Murray, his ride to Pimba, to Coober Pedy, his walking to the water and back, his flight to Marla, his return to Coober, to Marree, and now Adelaide.

“And?” Henry asked.

“And?”

“Have you found a kahuna? A guru? A guide?”

“No. Though I have had several – uh – strange experiences.”

“Strange?” echoed Sarah.

“Well, I had several dreams that seemed Bunjil-inspired. And the flight from Coober to Marla was dreamt.”

“Mmm.”

“Then I had a talk about caste/sect/totem lines in Marla. And one in William Creek. And then I met a young woman from the right line in Marree.”

“I knew we’d get the dirt on sex!” Sarah interjected.

“No. Not there. There was a woman near Nildottie and one in Coober – she lives here in Adelaide – but not the one in Marree. She was a crow ... or raven.”

“That would make sense in many systems,” Henry said. “Eagle matches Raven. And they are both carnivores.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.”

“I’ve over two decades on you, Sam.”

“I met two European women yesterday. One from Germany and one from Sweden. I have their numbers, but I haven’t phoned them. But tell me what’s irking you.”

“Just like my brother!”

“Actually, I heard something when I phoned you. But I said ‘irk’ because I don’t sense it as major strife.”

“It isn’t, Sam,” said Henry. “After nearly a decade, I want to go into the field again. And though I’m not a relative, I feel it’s much like Gordy going back to look at ants over and over. But I want to do something different.”

“Can you tell me?”

“Yes, but it will take some time.”

“Let’s go out for dinner and you can begin.”

“Sarah?”

“Sure. You want to call those ladies?”

“Yes, if only to – uh – defer seeing them.”

Henry handed Sam his phone. Sarah was looking at hers. “How about seafood?”

Sam nodded. He got Karen on the phone. “Hi, this is Sam ... No, it’s my uncle’s phone ... Anyway, I’m tied up today. How about tomorrow?... 1500? Certainly. Best to Gudrun.”

Sarah reappeared. “Paul’s at 1800. I hope that’s not too early. It’s Saturday and they’ve nothing later on.”

“I’m hungry already, let’s go.”

“I’ll start, but Sarah’s going to be bored,” Henry said. “First, have you ever heard of Ole Worm?”