Chapter 15

“Oh, by the way, the water’s OK. The pH level is a bit high, but there’s nothing noxious,” Sam told Tessa.

“Good thing, I didn’t want a miscarriage or a child with too many limbs.”

“By the way, when should you call your parents and I mine?”

“At least six weeks more.”

“OK. And medical inspection?”

“Around then. You know, women have been giving birth in Australia for at least 60 millennia.”

“Don’t you think you should see a physician?”

“Why? I feel fine. I don’t smoke. I hardly drink at all. I’m not overweight. I’ll get a physical when I ‘show,’ but that’ll be months from now. I’ll go to the District Hospital here. Don’t be so over-protective.”

Aboriginal mothers are younger and rarely give birth in private hospitals. Their babies are likely to be born prematurely and have low birth weight. [Aboriginal mothers and children - Creative Spirits]

Some 30-40 years ago it was decided that maternal and neonatal mortality could be reduced by compulsory evacuation of Aboriginal women in late pregnancy to regional hospitals for delivery. This occurred all across the North from the Kimberley’s, Arnhem Land, Cape York and the Centre of Australia, and recently I heard white and black women from Tennant Creek have to go to Alice Springs to have their babies. [Jilpia Nappaljari Jones, “Birthing: Aboriginal Women,” Journal of Indigenous Policy, 13 (2012)

“Maybe I should get a book.”

“Maybe you should worry about home construction and let my physiology take care of offspring construction!”

“Yes, dear.” And Sam went off to plan the construction of Gabbaitch with Jos, Zeke, Andy, Henk, and any others who had come by.

Tessa spent most of the day chatting with the ‘aunties,’ the older women in the Village. She learned quite quickly that spinifex grass and pandanus were the best fibers to weave bags from. “But I use hair togedder wit’ spinifex,” she was told by one. “Makes them dilly bags stronger.” She also was told that fan palms [Livistonia eastonii] made the best thatch, though other palms and pandamus were OK, too.

One of the aunties said: “You are not from here.”

“No. I am from far south, from the Flinders Ranges. I met Sam Bunjil there and I took him to meet my grandfather and he took me to Sydney, to meet his grandfather.” All the aunties nodded, they understood. “And we got married. Whitefella married and blackfella married. Then we went to the Uni. But when Sam’s father, Patrick Carpet Python, told us of Josiah and his plans, we spoke to our grandfathers and then we drove here. It took us almost two weeks. But we are here. Now, let me tell you a story of my people.”

In the first days, Belah, the warrior Sun Woman, whose campfire was the only light, liked the taste of Aboriginal flesh. She would kill, roast, and eat anyone she caught. So all the people lived in fear of her.

At this time, traveling through the country was a brave warrior called Kudna, the Lizard Man, who possessed five boomerangs. He had performed many incredible feats with them.

So, that Lizard Man came upon the camp of his friends, the Euro people, only to find that every single one had been dragged off, killed, and eaten by the Sun Woman. In a fit of rage, Lizard Man swore, ‘I will kill Belah, the evil Sun Woman!’

The Lizard Man quietly approached her campfire. But Belah saw him coming. She snarled her hate at him and hurled fire at him, making him take shelter behind rocks. But, closer and closer he came.

Sensing the danger, the Sun Woman reached for her spear. The first boomerang left the brown-skinned warrior’s hands, whirring round in an arc, striking the Sun Woman with such force that she fell backward into her fire, turning it into a giant fireball, which rolled off the edge of the Earth.

Immediately all was plunged into darkness.

Kudna stood there. He’d saved his people from the Sun Woman, but at what cost? Now there was no light. He was horrified at what he’d done.

Then Kudna, the Lizard Man, remembered. He still had four boomerangs left in his possum-skin belt. So he turned to the north, took a boomerang from his belt, and he threw it.

Whrrrrrrrr ... and he waited. Nothing happened. The darkness remained. He turned to the south and threw another boomerang.
Whrrrrrrrr ... and he waited, but again, nothing happened. Kudna turned and faced the west and threw a boomerang.

Whrrrrrrrr ... but, once more, nothing happened. There was not even a glimmer of light.

Finally, he slowly turned in an easterly direction, took the last remaining boomerang from his possum-skin belt, raised the weapon far back past his head, and, with all the strength he could muster, he threw it.

As it left his hand in a blur of yellow ochre and wood, it made a sound that only a boomerang makes when thrown by an Aboriginal warrior

Whrrrrrrrrrrrr ... It disappeared to the east, into the darkness over the edge of the Earth.

In darkness and a really deep silence, the warrior waited ... and waited ... until, finally, an amazing thing began.

For the first time, a light began to appear on the eastern rim of the Earth, and Kudna was able to see the silhouettes of the mountains and the trees. Suddenly, a great ball of fire rose high into the air and traveled, ever so slowly, across the sky and disappeared into the western sky, thus creating day and night.

Day, to hunt and to gather food. Night, to sit around the fire, to dance and sing, to listen to stories, and, finally, to rest.

Kudna became the hero of his people for saving them from Belah, the Sun Woman, and for creating day and night ... at the beginning of time.

To this day, the people of the Flinders Ranges will not kill a goanna or gecko because the Lizard Man saved them from the warrior woman, Belah, and a life of darkness by creating day and night. [adapted from Gadi Mirrabooka: Australian Aboriginal Tales from the Dreaming, ed. by Helen F. McKay et al., Libraries Unlimited, 2001

The aunties all agreed that Tessa’s was a good teaching. One of them, an older woman, said: “It is good that you know your grandfather and the stories. I know I was Banyjima, but I was put in a school and never learnt nothin’ ‘bout my people. Now they have a corroboree inna summer an’ whitefellas come to the no-more-our land.” [In Karjini Park every year there is an “event [that] is a celebration of the culture of the Banyjima people and connection with country in Karijini, with intimate, authentic and family friendly once-in-a-lifetime experiences for all ages.” Australia’s Northwest.]