Chapter 4

Patrick agreed, but was certain there was no assurance of any of this passing, nor of the companies abandoning profit for virtue. He drove back to Sydney unconsoled, discussing his unhappiness at dinner with Rachel. That night he had another encounter with a serpent. “Look northwest,” it told him. “Look where your little ones were.”

Rachel said: “Sam and Tessa must be the little ones. Where were they?”

“Kununurra. Lake Argyle.”

“Hmm. Something’s up.”

“Really?”

“The snake is informative, but not easily interpreted. And time isn’t the same. Maybe soon. Maybe not that soon to us.”

It was soon. The next morning’s news mentioned a dam failure in the Kimberley. Lunchtime brought a phone call from Canberra. Patrick then phoned Sam. Two days later Patrick was in Kununurra where he met Josiah and viewed the former Lake Argyle. He reported to Canberra.

He overheard boobook tell the children: “The Rainbow Serpent is the protector of the land, the people, and the source of all life. But the Rainbow Serpent can be a destructive force if it is not properly respected. In times of anger or rage it causes storms and floods to act as punishment against those who disobey the laws.

“The whitefellas dammed the rivers. The Serpent is slow to anger. But it can become enraged. It lashes its tail and raises the water.

“We must beware the Serpent and respect the forces.”

When Patrick reported, he refrained from mentioning the Rainbow Serpent. But Rachel remembered Patrick’s dreams and connected strands. “There may be more,” she said.

“What?”

“I’m not nungungi. I am no python. No eagle. No raven. Your visitor told you to look where Tessa and Sam had been. And there was a change. Clearly the great snakes are unhappy. People have been here for over 50 thousand years. The first fleet arrived in 1788. Not even 250 years ago. How long does it take to anger or enrage the Rainbow Serpent?”

It wasn’t really that long.

In 1915, the three states through which the Murray-Darling flowed – New South Wales, Victoria, and South Australia – signed the River Murray Agreement which proposed the construction of storage reservoirs in the river’s headwaters. Along the intervening stretch of the river a series of locks and weirs were built. These were originally proposed to support navigation.

The disruption of the river’s natural flow, run-off from agriculture, and the introduction of pest species has led to serious environmental damage along the river’s length. [adapted from Wikipedia]

Only a few weeks elapsed before cracks were noticed at the edge of the uncontrolled spillway at the Dartmouth Dam – part of the Murray-Darling system. One night there was a rumble heard in the town (population under 50). The local constable dismissed it. There had been earthquakes in Gippsland and Swan Hill and the worst had been a few items falling from shelves. But the next day one of the corporation’s hydrologists expressed worry and phoned the engineers downstream at Mitta Mitta (pop. 175).

Two days later, there was an “aftershock.” The dam disappeared. The water scoured the area around the Mitta Mitta elementary school, the (few) caravans in the “park” were swept away, two ending up near Pig’s Point, and urgent warnings were issued in Tallangatta (pop. Over 1000). Mitta Mitta was cleansed.

Further downstream, beyond Lake Hume, Yarrawonga and its large power station were alert, expecting a flood surge.

“Well?” Rachel asked in the morning.

“The Murray is the track left by Ngurunderi in the Dreaming as he traveled down the river in his bark canoe in search of his two run-away wives. At that time the river was only a small stream. A giant cod fish (Ponde) swam ahead of Ngurunderi, widening the river with sweeps of its tail. Ngurunderi chased the fish, trying to spear it from his canoe. It’s a long story with several versions. But Ponde’s tail and Ngurunderi’s canoe and spear casts account for many of the river’s features.”

“There’s a connection.”

“Yes. The dam on Lake Argyle. The dams along the rivers. I think you’re seeing a truth. But I doubt whether many would believe it.”

“Your serpent might tell you. You might go to a sacred place. That one down by Nowra, for example.” She paused. “Remember when we went to Winnie’s party and those stupid women were amazed that you said there was an aboriginal influence on Fred Williams?”

“Of course.”

“If your serpent is real, why not the Rainbow? Henry believes in Pele, doesn’t he?”

“The politicos won’t believe it.”

“So what? Do you remember the story of St. Perpetua?”

“I don’t think I know it.”

“She was an early martyr. She rejected her father’s impassioned plea to renounce her Christian identity. The worst thing that could happen to you is that some people think you weird. Like Galileo saying the Earth moved or Columbus that it was a sphere. And we in Australia don’t fall off, do we?”

“Right. As always. But I’m not a Semmelweis. Nor a Pasteur.”

“Yet you are...”

“I am a member of the bar. I am a known nungungi. I am a carpet python. I am of the rainbow serpent: a snake of enormous size living within the deepest waterholes of the waterways; I am descended from that larger being visible as a dark streak in the Milky Way, which reveals itself in this world as a rainbow as it moves through water and rain, shaping the landscape, naming and singing of places, swallowing and drowning people; strengthening the knowledgeable with rainmaking and healing powers. I am a benevolent protector and a malevolent punisher.”

“And you are of that which wrecks dams and floods man’s incursions. My mother is worried.”

“About what?”

“She’s part of a Japanese poetry group. Many poems are about the seasons. But it seems that climate change upsets things.”

“Like...?”

“Cherry blossoms are a sign of spring. But if the trees bloom earlier, then new readers don’t understand the allusions. Similarly, typhoons are a sign of autumn. But the typhoons now occur months earlier and several months later. So many haikus aren’t understood as they were. Michiko’s group is worried. She has many questions.”

“Well, I guess we’ve at least an answer. But who will listen to it?”

“Wyatt?”

“Perhaps. I’ll try in the morning.” There was a voice in my head: “You cannot build without cutting wood.”

In the morning, Patrick told Rachel that he’d be driving to Red Hands Cave. They’d been there before their wedding and he’d felt a strong pull from the lands. “I’ll stay a few hours, not overnight.”