by Bea Eschen
Tjandamurra’s father had died of the consequences of diabetes. His illness was never properly treated because medical facilities in the outback were rare and often inaccessible. His father developed abscesses on his feet, which eventually spread to his legs. The abscesses caused inflammation of the bones of which he then died.
Isolated raindrops were falling heavily in anticipation of the approaching storm. The rain season was under way and electric thunderstorms happened almost daily. Soon tropical monsoons would bring regular heavy downpours causing low-lying areas to flood. For Yolngu, who called the rain season barramirri, it meant that plant life flourished and all things grew. They collected wild plums, bush apples, beans and ice plant. Fish, shellfish and crabs in the coastal regions became a staple diet. Kangaroos and wallabies gave birth, and as well as their milk the joeys fed on the first yellow shoots that cracked the earth and turned green. The humidity was high and the temperature consistently around thirty-three degrees.
They reached the camp just in time before the rain started. Tjandamurra told Sebastian to wait out the storm in his hut, and with those words he disappeared into the cave of the banyan.
There was a knock on Sebastian’s door.
“Hi Tjandamurra!” Sebastian pronounced the name carefully to get it right.
Tjandamurra laughed. “Call me Janda.”
“Hi Janda!”
Janda looked the same as the previous day with his spear, G-Star Jeans shorts, iPhone and earphone cables sticking out of his back pockets, and his red armband.
“Today I want to show you around and also show you my office.”
While Sebastian was still struggling to put his shoes on, Janda was already standing outside, waiting.
“Lets start with my office. Don’t be frightened.”
“Why would I be frightened to see your office?”
“You’ll see.”
They climbed the winding staircase around one of the banyan trunks to Janda’s office. He tried to open the door, but it got stuck. So Janda climbed through the window around the corner, which seemed to be permanently open as it was covered with a densely spun spider web with various dead insects in it. Sebastian didn’t dare to think of the size of the spider that must have spun this enormous web. Janda used his spear to make a hole in it, making sure the hole was just big enough for him to squeeze through. He had bits and pieces of spider web and dead insects hanging on him when he opened the door for Sebastian to enter. As funny as Janda looked, Sebastian’s smile froze, as he could
hardly believe what he saw in front of him.
Every inch of sticky surface in the office was covered with blown and thrown around papers, bills, letters, pencils, leaves, twigs, a ruler, note pads, calculators, pens, empty torn bags, and ripped up boxes. An old-fashioned fax machine, tucked away in the furthest corner away from the window, was piled up with unread faxes. A desktop computer with an ancient monitor was hooked up in a tangle of cables under a tabletop, consisting of an old plywood sheet with broken edges, which was supported by two tree trunks. It was obvious the office had been cluttered over a long time.
“Hm.” Sebastian said with a frown.
Janda: “Little money from the government, except for food and we pay no rent. I need help with the paper work, and need to report the progress of the young people, who I try to give their dreams back.”
“Sure Janda, I’ll try to help you as much as I can.”
Janda grabbed his shoulder from behind like a warrior. Two rows of white teeth shone at Sebastian’s face. He handed him over his thick notebook.
“You’re a good man,” said Janda.
“I know.” They shook with laughter over Sebastian’s wit.
__________
The daily downpours, the sun and the moon regulated time and life under and around the banyan. Had it not been for Christmas wishes
from Magda and Sebastian’s parents, the event would have passed unnoticed. Sebastian’s mind focused entirely on Janda’s storytelling, typing up reports of individual young men who had visited the place before him, and what was going on around him. On one of their many walks together, Janda took Sebastian to a sacred place with aboriginal rock art that had been engraved in the rock thousands of years ago. It showed thin vertical creatures, looking like human stick people, called mimis, spirit creatures who left no tracks. They came out of the underworld, from out of the earth and hills to prepare the land for the next day. Mimis were the ones who kept the country tidy. They groomed the bushes, fed the fish and fixed broken branches. Also known for stealing the souls of others, mimis were playful as they enticed and enchanted people with their magic powers. Other rock paintings featured yams depicted in human form, and hunters with spears chasing after animals. Crocodiles, kangaroos, birds and snakes had been drawn simply but clearly recognizable by ancestral aboriginal generations.
They made damper − the traditional way. Janda showed Sebastian the mulga tree, from which they collected seed. Before they ground up the seed with a big oval stone on a flat rocky surface, Janda threw the seeds into the air with a coolamon, a dish made of bark with curved sides he had cut out of a tree trunk, so the wind could winnow the seeds from their pods. Then, Janda mixed the seed with water into a thick paste that was baked in the ashes of a fire. He used glowing sticks to toast the upper surface until he could turn the loaf and cover it with ashes and coals to cook it through. While they were sitting by the fire, they had long conversations. Janda asked about the cross Sebastian was wearing and Sebastian told him about his parent’s devotion to church, and that he still hadn’t told his parents about him being gay. For this reason alone he had become an atheist. As Janda had a story for every life situation, he remembered Dust Echoes. The main theme was about identity and relationships. He said Dhuwa moiety at Wugularr (Beswick) community owned the story. It was a story about a young man, who believed he was a disappointment to his father because he was a bad hunter. The mimis took him away and taught him to be happy and joyful by giving him wives and food. His father missed him terribly and searched for him until his hair grew long. When he found his son again, he pulled him out of the underworld and took him back home. The son joyfully realised that his father loved and accepted him the way he was. Then Janda decided on a totem by which Sebastian could live. He chose the sea turtle as the wisdom of the animal taught us to stay strong despite obstacles. It could stay grounded even in moments of disturbance and chaos. The next day he gave Sebastian a small wooden crafted sea turtle that he hung around Sebastian’s neck. While he did that he sang and danced the totem dance by thrusting up dust with his feet to release the ancestors powers. It was a unique experience for Sebastian and he felt close to tears when he accepted the gift. On various occasions after that the two men discussed religion. Once Janda’s mother, Aroonah, joined them. She said during her childhood at the Methodist station she learnt about the love of Jesus, but in her later life she could feel no affection for Him. Aroonah was affectionate towards Sebastian. She said the one who is friend to her son is her friend too. Like Janda, she had curly hair, but hers was almost white. The lines in her face spoke of deep sorrow yet her smile was all embracing. There were several front teeth missing that made her speak with a lisp, but when she spoke, she spoke wisely. She was wearing a loose dress with a flower pattern hinting at contours of sagged breasts and folds underneath. Her feet were wide with spread out toes and worn skin − the kind of feet that had never been inside shoes. Long and slender pandanus leaves stuck out at the top of a handmade basket tied to her back, tickling her head.
Mother and son told Sebastian the story about two ancestral beings, the Wawilak Sisters, which had been told to Janda during djungguwan through song, dance and art. Djungguwan was an initiation ceremony that aimed to teach young boys about discipline, law and respect for the traditions of their people. It was the ceremony of transition, teaching and remembering.
Mother and son took turns in telling the story.
“In easte
rn and central Arnhem Land two creator women, the djan’kawu sisters, gave birth to the first children of the dhuwa moiety. Another pair of ancestral sisters, the wawilak, laid down much of the law and ceremony for those children to follow. As they travelled though Arnhem Land the wawilak sisters hunted, gathered food and made camp like the Yolngu of today. But like all ancestral beings their actions took on a creative and land-transforming nature; and as they travelled they sang, naming and thereby giving meaning to the country and everything upon it. They created great ceremonies like the djungguwan through which they taught the first ancestral people of this country, the djuwany, the sacred and moral law, which has been handed down to this day.”
Aroonah and Janda fell silent. They were sitting in a circle, each one in deep thoughts.
“Why did you tell me that story?” Sebastian asked into the stillness.
“Because it is important.” Aroonah answered.
“May be the story is not relevant for me,” Sebastian thought aloud.
“For you, Sebastian, the purpose of the story is important, not so much the content – although even the content is of great value.” Aroonah said.
Sebastian knew he didn’t have to ask any further. Aroonah had given him all the necessary information; the rest was left up to him to figure out. What did she mean? The legend was told during the initiation of young aboriginal men and hinted at conflict. Take responsibility, be respectful, find a woman. Sebastian’s conflict comprised his reality of being different than conventional men. The content of the legend was about identity and roots. What do I want? What do I live for? Where am I going? Who am I? Time has come to be clear about myself. I must get ready to make decisions for my future. He thanked Aroonah and Janda and sat down on his veranda to think.
Devil Devils
It was a wet day in late January when Glenn Moore phoned. The defendant Heryanto Sukarnoputri, alias Arief Lee, had entered a plea of not guilty. A bail application was denied and Arief Lee was kept in custody. The Committal Hearing in the Darwin Magistrate Court determined that there was sufficient evidence for the defendant to be placed on trial in the Supreme Court. A trial date was set for early April, when Heryanto Sukarnoputri’s case would be dealt with by a judge and jury. The jury would hear submissions from both the prosecution and defence. The judge would then proceed to sentence. Glenn Moore would have to meet Sebastian to discuss matters and go over his witness report. They arranged the appointment for the twenty-fifth of March in the camp. He would also bring two hired suits for fitting.
“Until then, keep your head low,” Glenn Moore said jokingly.
It was that same day when Hunter Chase arrived in the camp. He had spent the past five years in Darwin Don Dale Prison for rape. Dural prepared one hut in the banyan before he picked Hunter up from Don Dale. When they arrived in the camp at the end of the day, they were exhausted from the travel and the departure procedure. Documents had to be signed, belongings collected and there was humiliation from the guards, who had called Hunter Chase an ape.
Hunter wasn’t an ape. He was a middle-aged man and looked confused. According to Janda, Hunter Chase used to be a kind family man with four children. His wife could not look after their children because of her alcohol and drug problem, so Hunter Chase quit his job as a mine worker and tried to take things at home in his own hands. While his wife was drunk in bed, Hunter Chase received a visit from one of his nieces, who came to offer a helping hand. Instead, Hunter took the visit for an invitation to sex. He raped his own niece who fell pregnant too, but later miscarried. His four children were put into foster care. The two younger ones were in foster families while the other two were in a state-run institution.
The time he spent in prison had changed him. He lost his connection to his tribe, kin and country. The prolonged humiliation during his sentence and the guilt he felt toward his children and his niece reduced Hunter Chase to a pitiful and confused self. According to his own words, he had nothing left to live for. Shabby pants and a torn T-shirt hung loose on his thin body marked by years of bad food and lack of exercise. He held his head bent down, avoided eye contact and didn’t speak. His face withdrawn, he was a destroyed man who had lost his dreams that once meant to him; a period of dreaming and a state of being. Re-entering dreamtime would help him find his identity as an aboriginal man again. It was Janda’s job to help him with that; connect him to his ancestors through ceremonial dances and singing and give him back that feeling of belonging to country that needed him like he needed it.
This was also the time when Janda’s half-brother was released from prison. Dural introduced him as Wundurra. His one-year prison term seemed to have done no damage to him yet deep down one could sense his hurt. Wundurra was a few years younger than Janda and looked different. With his yellow hair and olive skin his appearance was more that of a white sun-tanned man than that of an aboriginal. Sunglasses and a cap made him look like a tourist. He wore casual shorts, a singlet he changed daily, and sandals. On first impression, Sebastian thought he behaved like a spoilt outgrown kid. Aroonah, his mother, was always around him. They shared a close mother-son relationship and lived in one of the cabins in the banyan. When Sebastian watched the two, he was painfully aware how disturbed his relationship with his own mother was. Okay, she had taken care of him when he was a child; fed, cleaned and protected him, but emotionally, she failed as he grew older. During his teenage years, she had withdrawn from him. As if she had felt how his homosexuality slowly evolved, she was increasingly reacting like a stubborn, old-fashioned nun who repressed everything that was not her faith. It was disappointing to have a mother who was not able to understand him and seemed unable to see into his heart. Sebastian admired the harmony between Wundurra and Aroonah and tried not to be envious. However, he looked twice each time their body language spoke of tenderness and understanding. He noticed every gesture and touch between the two. Those were the moments when he felt lonely, for he longed more and more for a man by whom he was loved and who he could love. J
Janda took Wundurra out into the bush occasionally, but Hunter Chase took most of his attention. When Sebastian spent time on Signal Hill he could hear them singing and clapping as the wind carried their voices to him. Although the therapy was foreign to him, Sebastian noticed an improvement in Hunter Chase. After a week in the camp, Hunter reacted to the people around him and after a few weeks of therapy he was talking again – only the most necessary but at least the barrier was broken.
Once Janda invited Sebastian to a ceremony and put a pair of clapping sticks in his hands.
“What do I do with them?” Sebastian asked feeling unsure about his role in the ceremony at an aboriginal sacred place.
“Clap them,” Janda answered with a big smile and a hint of irony. First Sebastian clapped the sticks tentatively, but as his friends moved faster and their dancing gained intensity, Sebastian became intoxicated by the energy of the ritual. He sat cross-legged on the ground while the Aborigines danced around him. He let himself go with the flow of the chanting and picked up the rhythm as if in a trance. After the event he couldn’t stop smiling to have found himself in the centre of attraction yet he enjoyed the opportunity to have taken part and learn about the customs of this ancient people.
As the wet eased, the Aborigines in the coastal regions collected the eggs of sea turtles, crocodiles and water birds. Rainbow lorikeets flocked across north-eastern Arnhem Land and groups of red-tailed black cockatoos came to eat seeds and nuts. Humans and animals prepared for mayaltha, the season of flowering plants that attracted nectar-loving birds to the area. Bushlarks, doves and parrots filled the air with beautiful birdsong and fluttering colour.
The bush around the banyan turned into a dense jungle of lush green foliage. In it lived a variety of insects, lizards, spider, snakes and birds. Dural was looking forward to the fire season, which would clear the dense bush and scrubland of devil devils. They were bad spirits that accumulated in overgrown vegetation. Yolngu believed they got sic
k when there were too many devil devils in the swamps and scrub. In his dream, Dural saw his ancestors light fires, which were to free the bush from the evil spirits. At the same time, the fires rejuvenated nature by creating habitats for new plants and animals that served his ancestors as food. It was the knowledge of ancient times that his mother had given him.
The devil devils became a reality. This time they manifested as humans. Dural arrived in the camp visibly upset and shaken. On his return from the supermarket he had come across two Chinese men in an old Mercedes who he stopped for permit control. As he asked them for their permits, the driver told Dural to fuck off. The Chinese sped off. Dural still tried to read the registration, but a thick crust of dried sand covered the number plate.
“They are after me.” Sebastian said with a shaky voice. “How do they know I am here?”
Dural, guessing: “They may have watched my movements and followed me, for example my weekly trips to the only big supermarket in the area.”
“But how did they make a connection between us?” Sebastian asked.
“It is common knowledge that the Northern Territory Justice System uses Arnhem Land for witness protection. I work for the witness protection service in Katherine.”
“Did you notice you were being followed?”