14
Epilogue, 1843
My familiar has appeared to me in a dream. He has shown me a great many things. I saw my people torn apart and virtually disintegrated. An alien and incredibly advanced tribe will take over our land. They will drive us from it and in so doing also drive us from our way of life. Some of us will go willingly, enticed by the things they offer. They will come with demons which will carve up the earth. They will bring black rain which will destroy our country and make it infertile. They will move and remove the waters so that we can no longer survive through the dry times. Many of our totems will suffer and some will cease to exist. Maybe my own totem, Katararrtji, the spinifex pigeon, will be one of them. They will clear the land of all vegetation and introduce their own totems. This will stop the rains.
As our food and water supplies are eradicated we will come to depend on them for these things. They will take advantage of this and use us to help them destroy our own land. This will, in turn, break down our system of law and family. They will bring with them evil spirits which will take over our bodies and decimate us. Some of us will fight, but our weapons will be no match for theirs. They will take our women and water down our blood. Many of our kinsmen will lose their language, although some will be clever and will foster a new way with this new nation. Many of us will leave our homelands and never return, adopting their way of living. Those that do will give up our beliefs and system of law. Everyone will suffer because of this, the old and the new.
In the dream my familiar has also shown me hope. We will survive, although much will be lost. We will adapt as we always have. This land is in constant change and we have managed to adjust with it as time has passed. It is our way. We will do it again. Although with this great change it will take more than just a few seasons. The rain will come, as will the dry. This cycle will repeat a great many times before this transformation is over.
We will have to show the new custodians how to treat the land with respect. There will come a time when they are ready to learn from us. We must try to keep the lore alive until that time comes.
More than this, in my dream I saw yet another hope. I will have a descendent who no longer knows the old ways. He will be drawn to learn them. He will be one of few who will bridge the gap. The few will grow in number and become many. They will try to re-establish a new order. It will be difficult, as much will have transpired which can no longer be reversed.
I am fearful for the time that is to come. I am unsure how to tell my tribesmen about this dream. It is a new dream and they will be sceptical. I must try to find a way to warn them of the dangers to come. Although the future is clouded it is clear that a great change is coming and there will be very little we can do about it. It will sweep over us like a giant sand storm. Those who can hold their breath long enough will survive. Those who can’t will perish. I see that, at the very least, hope lies within my own family. I will try to instil this hope in my offspring and teach them to hold onto our values. I will endeavour to do the same.
Perhaps, like my familiar, there is another way to warn them—to guide them—even once my physical body no longer walks this realm. I will consult my spiritual brothers for guidance. They will accept my dream. They will help. They always do. I will do all in my power to ensure that my sons and daughters find the right path, even though the future is so unclear. Together, we will be resilient and steadfastly uphold our values, law and culture.
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P. J. Whittlesea is an author and singer-songwriter. Originally from Australia, he now resides in Amsterdam in The Netherlands.
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