Things a Map Won't Show You

by Pam Macintyre

  ‘Stay there,’ Lila ordered. ‘You’re not safe.’

  ‘He certainly isn’t!’ Cardello roared. ‘Step aside! Once I roast him, everyone will know who’s in charge!’

  ‘I don’t think so, great-grandfather.’

  Cardello shrugged. ‘When you’re old as I am, you have many, many grandchildren. What’s one fewer? Goodbye, Lila. Goodbye, Year King.’

  Cardello hurled the ball of magic. It crackled and hissed, but just before it reached Lila it burst harmlessly. Bryn felt a wash of warm air, with a slight scent of mint.

  Cardello stared. ‘That was my most powerful destruction spell!’

  ‘It is nothing compared to the power of the people.’ Lila crossed her arms. ‘That’s what I have on my side. Go now, great-grandfather. Your time is done.’

  ‘That’s what I told him,’ Bryn muttered.

  Another huge cheer rolled through the window. Cardello stared at Lila, then he shook his head and sneered, ‘I predict that within a year, this place will be ruined.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Lila said. ‘But it will be our ruin.’

  With a snarl, Cardello stalked from the room and slammed the door behind him.

  Bryn swallowed. ‘Will he be back?’

  Lila went to the window and waved. The most enormous cheer of all erupted.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘He’s always talked of starting his own country. Now’s his chance.’

  ‘A wizardocracy? That should be interesting.’

  ‘And what about you, ex-King Bryn? Now that you’ve thrown away that stupid fake beard and schemed your way out of a job, what are you going to do?’

  ‘Leave?’

  ‘We’ll be sorry to see you go. The new government could use your help.’

  Bryn hesitated. He had roads to travel, a book to write. ‘Will there be tourmaline sherbet?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Count me in.’

  Every day the old woman of Losu village on New Ireland fed her pig, but one day she forgot to feed him. The pig was very hungry. So the next day, when she went to feed him, the pig gobbled her up.

  From that day everybody hid at the sight of the pig. They called him Lungalunga. Everybody had to contribute food for the pig, otherwise he would start eating people.

  Everyone was terrified and so frightened that they decided to leave the village. They all sailed away in canoes, but they left an old woman behind who was so ugly that they were frightened of her ugliness.

  The people headed for Tabar Island. The sad old woman went and lived in a cave. Only at night did she come out to find some food.

  In the end she married a small bird, who could obtain food for her more easily. After a year she gave birth to two boys and when they were old enough to protect themselves she told them of Lungalunga who gobbled and ate people.

  Lungalunga now lived in a cave. The boys took their weapons, consisting of spears only, and killed Lungalunga.

  They cut off a few bristles from his neck and tied them in a bundle. They threw the bundle into the sea and the current carried it to Tabar Island.

  The people who had left Losu many years ago were fishing. Suddenly they saw the pig’s hair drifting towards them. They recognised it to be the hair of Lungalunga and so they decided to return to their village.

  The brothers, seeing the people paddle towards their old home, stood firmly on the beach. As the people came closer to the beach, the brothers were slowly sinking into the sand, while their mother turned into stone.

  When the people stepped out of their canoes the brothers had completely disappeared, and only some blood remained on the sand.

  This was the end of the heroes of Losu.

  Yinti was a boy from the Great Sandy Desert of Western Australia. His people were nomads who travelled over their vast sandhill country, from one waterhole to another, living by hunting animals and gathering food. In the early years of European settlement, white people had introduced cats to Australia. Many of them went wild, and by the time Yinti was growing up cats had spread throughout the continent, even into the driest, hottest parts of the desert. These feral cats did a lot of harm, killing the desert wildlife, and as the smaller mammals became scarcer and then started to disappear, people hunted feral cats instead.

  The boy looked closely at the cat he had just killed. With the help of his tame dingo bitch, Blacknose, he had tracked it for a long way. When they were getting close to the fleeing cat, Blacknose had chased it and driven it up a tree. Yinti had thrown his hunting stick up into the tree and knocked down the cat. Blacknose had soon killed it. Even before he set eyes on the cat, Yinti had known from its small tracks that it was a female. Now he felt for her teats and squeezed them. A few drops of milk appeared. She must have kittens hidden somewhere.

  After gutting the cat and closing her belly with a sharp sliver of wood, Yinti stood up and glanced at the sun. It was past midday, and the red sand was burning underfoot. But the boy was unwilling to leave the kittens abandoned in their den. He would have to look for them.

  Knowing that the cat would have left her den early in the morning to go hunting, the boy set off in a direct route across country to the place where he had first picked up her tracks, not long after daybreak. By ignoring all the detours the cat had made when she had been trying to shake off the dingo, Yinti got back to his starting point in a much shorter time than he had taken to hunt her down. He knew that the kittens couldn’t be far away.

  It was the dingo who found them. Yinti saw her suddenly run ahead, nosing the ground intently. Then she stopped running and sniffed hard around the same spot, her tail wagging its excited signal. Yinti followed and caught up with her; there on the sand where Blacknose had been sniffing, he found many little footprints that showed him where the kittens had played not long before. He had soon traced them back through the clumps of spinifex grass to the den their mother had dug for them in the side of a sandhill.

  Blacknose was there before him. With her rear in the air, tail swishing like a flag in the wind, her head and shoulders pushing into the den, she could smell the kittens, tantalisingly close. She pulled out her head, and then her forepaws sent the sand flying. But Yinti pulled her off. He wanted to see the kittens for himself. Crouching in front of the entrance to the den, he reached his arm inside, felt something warm and furry, and grabbed it. There was a spitting sound and twenty sharp claws dug into his hand as he pulled the kitten out into the light. He winced but hung on. When he saw the kitten he was holding, he smiled with pleasure: it was a fluffy black ball, with white markings running down its nose, around its neck, and on its paws and the tip of its tail. Yinti had never before seen such a pretty kitten. He didn’t want to kill it. He decided to keep it for himself.

  Yinti showed the little animal to Blacknose, who reached towards it, curious. The kitten gave a sudden, explosive spitting sound, and clawed the air. Yinti laughed at such ferocity, but the dingo’s muzzle puckered in a snarl and she made as if to grab the fluffy wild ball. ‘Leave it!’ the boy growled, threatening the dog with his stick. Then he placed the kitten beside a spinifex clump, under which it disappeared in a flash. Blacknose thrust her head into the spinifex, trying to reach the kitten cowering there. But Yinti sang out to her and she turned her attention back to the den.

  The next kitten Yinti pulled out was a little grey and black tabby with its mother’s markings, spitting and scratching like the first. He stroked it for a moment or two to soothe it, then put that one in the grass with its mate, brandishing his stick at the dingo in silent warning. He picked up the adult cat and draped her body across his shoulders, then lifted the two spitting kittens out of the spinifex by the scruffs of their necks. When they had quietened down he held them together cradled in one arm against his body, and carried his hunting stick in his free hand. Then he started off across the sandhills to his family’s camp.

  When Yinti came within sight of camp, his younger brother Kana ran to meet him.

  ‘What have
you got there?’ he asked. ‘How many cats? Are they fat?’

  ‘One female,’ said Yinti. ‘And here, this little one’s for you to keep.’ He handed his brother the grey tabby kitten. Kana took it gingerly, avoiding the sharp and flailing claws.

  ‘What about that one?’ he asked, looking enviously at the second kitten, black with white markings, tucked under his brother’s arm.

  ‘This one’s mine!’ said Yinti.

  The two boys carried the cats into their camp and showed them to their mother.

  ‘Well done!’ she praised her elder son as she took the dead cat from him. ‘But why didn’t you kill the small ones as well? Look how they’ve scratched your hands!’

  ‘I don’t want to kill them,’ Yinti told her. ‘My brother wants to keep that one, and I’m keeping this one. See how pretty he is.’ He held up his little kitten proudly.

  The woman built up the fire with wood, singed off the dead cat’s fur, and before long she had buried it with coals in the sand. While the game was cooking, the boys played with their new little companions. Already Blacknose had learnt that she mustn’t harm them, and soon lost interest.

  The kittens had eaten nothing all day. Their mother had left them before dawn, and had never come back. When they had got over their terror of the human beings, the kittens began to feel hungry again, and cried for food.

  ‘They want milk,’ said the woman.

  ‘Yes,’ said her son. ‘Their mother had milk. That’s how I knew she must have kittens. What shall we give them?’

  ‘We’ll give them brains,’ said his mother. ‘That’s what we feed to babies if they lose their mother and no other woman has milk to give them. We give them the brains of animals.’

  When the cat was cooked, Yinti’s mother pulled it out of the coals and placed it on some leafy branches to keep it out of the sand. It lay there, furless and charred. With her hand axe she cut the carcass into quarters. She handed out generous pieces to her sons and set some aside for herself. Then she picked up the head of the cooked cat and cracked the skull with the back of her axe. She took out the brains -- good, soft meat -- broke them up with her fingers and put them on some leaves to cool down. She took a small piece, blew on it and offered it to the black and white kitten in her elder son’s lap. The kitten ate it hungrily. Seeing this, Kana held out his hand for a piece of the brains, and fed his own new kitten. Though at first he had wanted the prettier kitten, he was already becoming attached to his own. He had found out that his kitten was female, while his brother’s was male.

  Yinti’s family had been camping at the same waterhole for a number of days, and during that time another family had joined them. The people had caught most of the game that could be found close to their camps and the daily search for meat was becoming harder. The sandhills were not rich in vegetable food at this dry time of year, and the people had soon used up all they had been able to find. It was time to move on.

  The woman carried her hunting stick and a coolamon of water, which she balanced on her head. Each of her sons carried his own short spear and a pair of boomerangs. They walked ahead of their mother, looking out for tracks. Behind them trailed their kittens.

  The kittens moved in fits and starts. They kept to the tussocks of spinifex as much as they could. But in places where the grass had been burnt recently, there was no cover. They would crouch low, muster their courage, then race across the open ground to the next island of unburnt spinifex. There they would stay hidden for a time, reluctant to come out. Only when the human family that had adopted them had moved away did they venture to follow.

  Being still so young, the kittens soon got tired. When they were too weary to go on, they stopped and mewed sorrowfully. Then the boys took pity on them and carried them on their shoulders.

  Yinti had been carrying his kitten for a while and now he wanted to be free of it so that he could more easily watch for tracks on the ground. He put the small animal down on the sand. The kitten followed him for a little way, but the sand was hot under his soft young paws and he started to lag behind. He mewed but Yinti ignored him. To get away from the hot, shadeless sand, the kitten did the only thing he knew: he climbed a tree. After walking on a bit further Yinti looked back and saw that his kitten wasn’t following. Tired himself from the long journey, Yinti cursed, then retraced his steps until he reached the place where the kitten’s tracks came to a stop at the foot of a tree. Looking up, he saw the kitten crouching amongst the branches. He called to it, but the kitten just looked down at him with big eyes and mewed piteously. Yinti put his weapons on the ground and climbed the tree, gripping the trunk with the insides of his feet and his knees. He grabbed the kitten, put it on his head, where it clung on tight, and carried it down. By now Yinti’s mother and brother were a long way ahead.

  Yinti set the kitten on the ground again, but it refused to follow him. It crouched down and mewed. In a sudden fit of impatience, the boy snatched up the kitten and threw it to the ground, much too hard. The kitten cried out in pain and fright and ran away on three legs, the fourth leg trailing, and hid in a clump of grass.

  At once, Yinti’s heart melted. He hurried to pull the black and white kitten out of the spiny grass and looked closely at the injured hind leg. It was broken. Seized with remorse, Yinti nursed and comforted the kitten until it stopped crying. Then he lifted the furry ball to his shoulder and carried him all the way to the next waterhole. As soon as he arrived he sat down on the sand and sang a healing song over the lame animal, gently stroking its leg as he did so.

  The black and white kitten grew into a healthy tomcat. He became a good hunter. Even with only three good legs, the cat was as quick and agile as any of his wild relations. He could climb trees. He learnt to kill lizards and birds, bringing them back to camp in the early mornings and leaving them on the ground close to Yinti, the youth who had raised him. Yinti gutted and cooked any game the cat brought and, however hungry he might be, he never failed share the meat with his cat.

  The black and white tomcat lived with Yinti for many years, but all his life he had one hind leg that dragged behind him.

  By an anonymous Japanese schoolgirl

  Teacher, don’t scold me.

  Teacher, don’t scold me, please.

  I did a very wrong thing.

  I stole a piece of chewing-gum from a store.

  I did it with a younger girl.

  Immediately they found out what we had done.

  Perhaps God told them.

  I could not say anything.

  I was shaking like a clockwork toy.

  I told the younger girl to steal it.

  She said: ‘You take one as well.’

  But I said ‘No’ as I was afraid to be found out.

  So she did it.

  But it is I who am wrong.

  I am a thousand and ten thousand times

  More wrong than she is.

  It is I who did wrong.

  I had thought that what we did

  Would not get to the ears of my mother.

  But she soon found out all about it.

  I have never seen such a dreadful look

  As the one she gave me then.

  I have never seen such a mournful look

  As the one she gave me then.

  I was thumped so hard I thought I was going to die.

  ‘A child such as this cannot be ours. Get out of this house,’

  She shouted, weeping.

  I went out on my own.

  I went to a park where I frequently walk.

  But teacher, I felt as if I were in a foreign land.

  I thought to myself, I must go somewhere,

  I must go – but there was no place to go.

  I thought and thought about it.

  But I could not get a single thing clear in my mind,

  And my legs were trembling.

  I went home very late that evening,

  And bowed as flat as a fish before my mother, apologising.

  But s
he just went on weeping, staring me in the face.

  Why did I do such a bad thing?

  – Since then two days have passed.

  My mother is still weeping mournfully.

  What shall I do, teacher?

  What shall I do?

  See, this kid was hanging around outside the flower shop and Jenny (the shop assistant) thought he was a trouble maker. She reckoned he might be going to nick something. That’s why she called for me. I have a black belt in judo and if I do say so myself I am quite good in a fight.

  Not that I’m tough. No, generally I am as quiet as a lamb. I’m not big either. In fact a lot of people think I am about fourteen years old and they are amazed when I tell them I am really seventeen. I got the job at the flower shop because of my strength. They needed someone strong who could lump all the boxes around and lift heavy flower pots for Jenny. At first they didn’t want me on account of my size but when they saw what I could do they changed their minds and gave me the job.

  Anyway, to get back to the story. This kid (who looked about my age) really was acting strangely. He would peer into the shop looking at the flowers for sale. When anyone looked at him he sloped off down the street. About five minutes later, back he would come. This happened about twenty times. I should add that I thought I had seen him hanging around before. Perhaps on the train.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ I said to Jenny. ‘I’ll fix this weirdo up in no time at all.’ I walked out of the door and approached the boy who was acting so strangely. Straightaway he turned around and started to walk off.

  ‘Come back here,’ I ordered in my sternest voice. ‘I want to talk to you.’ He turned around and went red in the face. I could see that he was nervous. His knees were wobbling like jelly and he just stood there with his mouth dangling open.

  ‘What are you hanging around here for?’ I asked. I started to feel sorry for him, he looked so nervous, and I had a feeling that maybe he was a bit sweet on Jenny. I have to admit that she is the spunkiest girl in all of Melbourne and he wouldn’t have been the first one who fancied her.