by Cara Shaw
It was a fateful and tragic tale and it took a good two hours for the dancers to unravel the whole tale. Balin was engrossed and shared with the rest of the audience the emotions the terrible story caused. When the dancers sat down he was invited to take his turn. He stood and walked over to the fire and began and after about five minutes or so the entire tribe was laughing hysterically. Balin was telling an old favourite from his tribe about an emu who was not very bright, and who kept sitting on all the eggs and trying to hatch them. What made it even funnier was that the emu had his own eggs as well and had no business trying to hatch everyone else’s. He ended up in terrible squabbles with the other emus, whilst at the same time trying to steal the chicks that had already hatched. Balin performed this dance with a lot of comical flair and his movements were deft and sure. By the end everyone was lying on the ground with tears of laughter rolling down their faces, and the children were crowding around him giggling and patting him in glee.
All at once the karandajin, stepped forward, “Why are these children here?” he asked in a loud angry voice.
Everyone was startled, in all the fun they had forgotten that the girl children were not allowed in the men’s camp, and who in their excitement had rushed over with the little boys to crowd around Balin to seek his favour. The girls realising their mistake, walked shamefully back with the small boys who were not yet big enough to join the men’s camp, to their mothers and a dour mood fell over the group. As Balin retired for the night he was deeply puzzled. He felt that the serious imbalance of relations between the women and men was very wrong and contrary with the basic tenets of the Duradjuri way - which was to seek harmony in all things.
The next day he awoke and when asked, politely refused to accompany the men on a hunting trip, saying that he was weary from the previous night’s activities. What he really wanted was to stay at the camp and observe, and to try and discover what the problem was between them and the women. He spent the day gathering bush foods and repairing his spears. One of the women left a coolamon of food near his spot and when he cheerfully called out his thanks to her, she ignored him. As the day wore on he noticed that another of the women sat away from the rest of the camp. She had her own gunyah and she quietly tended to her fire and her children, two girls who appeared to be around three and five.
This woman was small in comparison to her fellow tribeswomen. Her features were extremely fine and her eyes were large and dark. Everything about her was neat and tidy, and when she disappeared with her children and returned looking fresh with damp hair, Balin understood that she had been bathing in the shallows of the nearby river. Everything about her intrigued him and he was very drawn to the little girls, who although quiet like their mother, were bright and dainty and given to fits of giggles. Their mother occupied them constantly with bush gathering tasks or sand drawings and stories, and was teaching them basic hunting skills. Balin found that he was beginning to admire the woman’s patience and self-discipline, and he felt sorry for her because she was obviously ostracised by the rest of her tribe.
The men returned later in the day and began preparing the meat for the evening meals. Balin sat down next to Warraway who was about to roast a large wambuwany over the hot coals.
“Look!” he said happily. “We hunted well today.”
Balin dutifully admired Warraway’s kangaroo and offered him the coolamon of bush foods he had collected that day. Warraway took it gratefully and laid it to the side.
They sat together for a while, and Balin finally gathered up enough courage to ask, “Why is it that the men and women in this tribe are completely separate? In my home tribe we do everything together, except for special business. It is curious to me.”
Warraway sighed heavily. “I know. It is very sad,” he looked gloomily into the fire. “My wife lives in the women’s camp now. I miss her terribly.”
Balin could feel the man’s emotion and felt sorry for him. Then he said, “There’s one woman who’s always alone. I have been watching her, she has two little girls. The other women avoid her as well. Tell me, has something gone wrong in this camp?”
Warraway looked at him sadly. “I’ll tell you the story friend, so that you can take it back to your camp as a warning. Then you can make sure that the same malaise doesn’t fall upon your tribe.” Balin nodded and waited.
“The woman’s name is Narramaroo, she is from the Kumaroi clan – not Duradjuri. About six seasons ago one of our warriors Munderah went walkabout with the intention of finding and bringing back a wife. He travelled north from here until he came to Kumaroi country. He was resting by a river when he saw Narramaroo bathing, and he waited until she came back to bathe again the next day. He was very taken with her because as you have probably noticed she is very attractive.”
Balin nodded in agreement.
“On the third day he approached her and she screamed. He put down his spears and began talking to her and after a while she relaxed. He told her that he was looking for a wife and that she was the first woman he had seen during his long walk. He said he thought that the ancestors must have consulted to bring them together. Narramaroo looked at him and liked what she saw, so she took him back to the camp to see her father Gulgoa. Narramaroo indicated that she wanted to marry Munderah and go with him to live with the Duradjuri in the south. Narramaroo’s father was quite relieved as she was one of his three daughters, and life would be easier for him once they were all married and he would not have to hunt so much. So Munderah gave Gulgoa his best spear and the couple left for Munderah’s home in Duradjuri country. On the walk the couple discovered that they were a very good match and by the time they reached the camp, not only were they deeply in love, Narramarroo was pregnant as well. Everyone was overjoyed that Munderah had found such a suitable wife and she settled in very quickly. Except for one person – Warwilla, Munderah’s older brother. Upon the couple’s return Warwilla had taken one look at Narramaroo and fallen instantly in love with her.
Over time Warwilla’s feelings for Narramaroo intensified and after Kooloona, Narramaroo’s first child was born, Warwilla could bear it no longer and sought Narramaroo out to declare his feelings. He begged her to leave Munderah and come to live with him as his wife. She became very frightened, she loved her husband and had never liked Warwilla, whom she thought was overbearing and mean. She refused and told him that if he left her alone, she would never tell Munderah what had happened. Warwilla went off in a rage and from that point on, Narramaroo was very careful to keep well away from her husband’s brother.
Warwilla became obsessed and watched Narramaroo all the time, brooding and dreaming about her. Eventually all the tribe began to notice his behaviour and the situation became a running joke amongst the people. Although Munderah was furious, he refused to disgrace his wife or brother by acknowledging what was going on. Then Narramaroo had her second baby, Wyomee and it all became too much for Warwilla. He challenged Munderah to a fight and told him that if he won, Narramaroo would be his wife.
Munderah refused and turned his back on him saying, “I will not fight my own brother, you must find your own wife.”
Warwilla flew into a rage and attacked Munderah and killed him with his nulla nulla. The people were shocked and Narramanoo was inconsolable because she had loved her husband so much, and she returned to her gunyah with her children to grieve. This was when the karandajin stepped in and arranged a meeting with the elders. The karandajin decided that an angry spirit had taken hold of Warwilla and driven him mad with lust for Narramaroo, and that this spirit had accompanied her from her tribe, perhaps because it was angry that she had left the Kumaroi. He decided that she must be separated from the tribe until the spirit had settled down. Everyone agreed except Warwilla. He still insisted that Narramaroo should be his wife now that Munderah was dead, even though nobody would listen to him.
Over the next few months the men carried out special scarification ceremonies in an a
ttempt to chase the spirit away and also to try and heal Warwilla; with no result. Warwilla sat in his gunyah day in and day out refusing to eat until he began to waste away. One day we found him in the river. He had drowned himself and we buried him under a tree and made the correct marks on the trunk to signify his final sitting place. The karandajin called the tribespeople together again, and this time informed them that the spirit had taken over Warwilla’s mind and had killed him. He was worried that it was possible that the spirit could harm the other men in the tribe and decided that it would be best if the women and the men stayed away from each other altogether, as the spirit was obviously residing in the woman’s camp where Narramaroo was living. The men, fearful that the same fate would befall them that had taken Warwilla agreed, and from that day the two camps have been completely separate. Narramaroo was told to live by herself with her children.”
Warraway finished his story and retrieved the wambuwany from the hot coals. He proceeded to portion it out into coolamons and bark platters for the tribe. Balin ate silently and thought about the story that Warraway had told him. He wasn’t entirely convinced that the karandajin’s solution was correct; it was common for brothers – especially those close in age, to compete with each other when they believed that the one had more than the other or was the better warrior or hunter. His observation was that Warwilla had taken his resentment to the extreme, and had lost everything he loved because of it. In his opinion the karandajin should have worked more closely with Warwilla to heal him, and to cleanse him of the terrible thoughts that made his life such a misery. He bade Warraway goodnight and went to bed and dreamt heavily. The dream was about a small brown wren, the female counterpart to the magnificent male blue wren. She was alone in an acacia tree and hopping about desultorily. She seemed tired and every time she stopped her little head drooped. In the dream Balin was watching her closely; he could see that her feathers were moulting and that the skin on her body was exposed. Eventually she roosted on a branch close to the trunk and hid her head under her wing.
Balin awoke the next morning and came to a decision. He got up and walked over to Narramaroo’s gunyah and stood outside softly calling her name. She emerged and the two little girls followed her, rubbing their sleepy morning eyes and staring at him curiously. Narramaroo creased her brow with concern and asked him what he wanted, surprised that he had broken the rules of the camp and come to her hut.
Balin said, “I have heard the story of you and Munderah and Warwilla.”
Narramaro dropped her head in shame and refused to make eye contact with him.
Balin continued, “Narramanoo, I don’t believe it’s safe for you and your children to live in this camp any longer. I want you to come away with me and stay with my tribe in the south. I am concerned for your welfare,” he stopped, waiting for Narramaroo to answer him.
She remained silent.
“Narramaroo,” he said quietly, “you will have a better life if you leave here. This is no way to live. The incident between Munderah and his brother was not your fault no matter what the karandajin says.”
A tear rolled down Narramaroo’s cheek. She knelt down and spoke to the children who went inside the gunyah to fetch their dilly bags and baby coolamons. Narramaroo collected everything from around the camp that was hers; her hunting gear, hair belt and so on.
She came back to Balin and said to him, “We are ready.”
Balin escorted her and the girls to the head man who looked upon the small group with disapproval.
“What are you doing?” he said, “You know that it is forbidden for men and women to mix here.”
“It’s time for me to leave,” said Balin “I have asked Narramaroo if she would like me to accompany her back to the Kumaroi.” Balin spoke carefully. “She has no husband here, so she has decided that this is what she will do.”
The head man looked at them disdainfully, “Take her. Be warned, the consequences will be of your own making.”
Balin nodded and they turned to go. Just as they were about to leave the karandajin came towards the group with a sour look on his face and murmured something to the head man.
“Wait,” he said and Balin stopped. “The karandajin says that you must give us something to pacify the spirits after all the trouble Narramaroo has caused.”
It was clear to Balin now that the medicine man had control of the tribe, that he was the one who made the decisions and whom everyone obeyed. Balin took the possum skin that he had been saving from his dilly bag and handed it to the head man. “Please take this on behalf of Narramaroo and myself, to thank you for your hospitality.”
Balin, by following the protocol of good manners to the highest level, had sidestepped the manipulating ways of both men. Narramaroo was now safe from any threat of reprisal and there was nothing anyone could say or do. Balin, Narramaroo and the two little girls walked away from the unorthodox camp. When they were finally out of sight, Balin glanced down at Narramaroo who was walking at a steady pace by his side, and saw that she was smiling.
Chapter Seven
Instead of heading north to Kumaroi country as they had indicated to the head man, Balin, Narramaroo and the two girls made the lengthy journey south, which gave him good opportunity to get to know the woman and her children. He discovered that she was typically Kumaroi in her behaviours and practices, and that her Duradjuri was heavily accented with the intonations of her own language. He wondered if these differences were related to the way she had been treated at her in-law’s tribe. He couldn’t help noticing how beautiful she was and he felt self-conscious around her. She was a small woman and only came to below his shoulder, and unlike the Duradjuri women, her legs were extremely slender and long. Her nose was upturned and her lips unusually full, and at times he found it difficult not to gaze longingly at her bottom and breasts, both of which were high and round and in his mind, very inviting. He had never come across a woman who was so sexually attractive, and he held a grumbling concern that once they reached his camp there could potentially be squabbles over her availability, just as there had been in the northern Duradjuri tribe. He believed that his dream about the brown wren was a message sent to him by the spirits, and that Narramaroo had been shown to him in this form so he could see the woman’s true plight. He thought bringing her to his home tribe was probably a good way to keep the family safe in the short term.
The first day they walked for a long time and only stopped to rest for a couple of hours when the heat was intense. At the end of the day they made camp under a grove of gum trees and ate the bush foods they had collected on the way, and stayed for the night. The next morning they moved on, Balin wanted the extra time to put as much distance between the dysfunctional tribe and his small group as he could. The bad energy from that camp resonated poorly with him. He anticipated that if Narramaroo had remained there and relations had disintegrated even further she would have become scapegoated by the tribe. He imagined that the men resented being forced apart from their wives and children and would have begun to look for ways to remedy the situation. Balin guessed that one of the solutions could have resulted in Narramaroo and her children being killed. He observed that the northern Duradjuri interpreted their spirit relationships in a different fashion to his own tribe; and the fact that their karandajin had nominated himself as a spokesperson for the ancestors went against his personal experiences with the Dreamtime. If he was right, that karandajin would come to a nasty end and the relationship dynamics in the northern Duradjuri tribe would revert to the old ways once more.
His greatest surprise was Narramaroo’s little girls, whom he found completely delightful. As he and Narramaroo were not married, he made sure that they slept well apart and was careful to respect her woman’s business. Narramaroo followed this practice too and the male and female energy between them was maintained in gentle harmony. This was completely lost on Kooloona and Wyomee, who appeared to think that Balin was like a lar
ge tree or rock that they could climb or bounce off whenever they wished. His beard had grown to a good length since he had been away, so they both found great hilarity in pulling at it until he growled and shook them off like flies, and they ran away screeching and laughing. Narramaroo pursed her lips and tried not to giggle when the scarred and ropey muscled warrior tussled with her children. Most mornings he awoke to the girls sprawled across him and deeply asleep, with little Wyomee snoring loudly in his ear. He tucked them under his arm, returned them to their mother’s side before they roused, and then went away to hunt so they could all eat before setting off again.
Their journey south was leisurely and enjoyable. Little by little Narramaroo let her defences fall and communicated more freely with Balin. This was mainly because he was careful to treat her kindly and with great gentleness. He could not imagine what it would feel like to be excluded from his own tribe to the extent that Narramaroo had, and he could see that she was hurt badly by the whole incident. One evening after dinner the four of them were relaxing around the camp fire, and the children were snuggled in Balin’s lap, when he said, “Tell us a Kumaroi story Narramaroo, so the children can learn about their mother’s people.”
Narramaroo felt privileged, it had been a long time since she had thought about her tribe or spoken in her language.
She thought hard for a moment and then began.
“This story is about the bandicoot – my totem, and that means the Kumaroi are not allowed to hunt or eat them. The reason is the ancestor spirit of the bandicoot belongs to the Kumaroi dreaming, and to harm this animal would mean upsetting the spirit who guards its safety. Now, we all know that the bandicoot in Kumaroi is called the guru, a very small, timid animal that will always hide if people or other animals come near him. The guru was not always so little. If you can imagine the biggest rock you have ever seen and think of it as even bigger, then that is how big the guru was in the Dreamtime.”