by Cara Shaw
Narramaroo had relaxed into her story, and the little girls sat up attentively in Balin’s lap, eyes wide with expectation. Narramaroo continued.
“The guru was one of the many animals that Biamie and the giant sky spirits made when all of the land and people lived in the Dreamtime; there are others too – some of which in Kumaroi are known as the bigiblia – echidna, thinawan – emu, bandaar – kangaroo and they too each have their Dreamtime story. The guru is interesting to us because there was a time when he made our great spirit Biamie very very angry. The guru’s ancestor spirit who lived in the sky was told by Biamie to sing a special song that would bring the guru to life, so that it could live on the land in harmony with the people. The spirit did as he was told and when the guru came down from the sky and awoke on the ground, he stretched out his new body happily, admired his paws and snout and long fine tail, and went about the place looking for food and company.
He came across a tribe of Kumaroi people, and instead of behaving properly and waiting to be invited into the camp, he hopped in and made himself quite at home without asking anybody’s permission or even introducing himself. This probably would not have mattered, except that he was huge and was also very loud and rude. He looked around the camp and saw that he was the biggest of all the Kumaroi, so he took the best spot in the camp for himself and ordered everyone to bring him food. The tribe was very angry about this and they all began squabbling amongst themselves. The wives went to their husbands and said, this guru is horrible – make him go away! The men agreed and they waited until the guru had stuffed himself with food and gone to sleep. While he was snoring away loudly the men crept up and threw their spears at him and struck him with their nulla nullas. It was no use! The guru’s hide was so thick and his fur so coarse that the weapons bounced off him with no effect.
The animal saw how useless the tribe’s strength was compared to his and he laughed and laughed. Then the guru became even more demanding and told them all that he was the leader of the tribe now, and that everyone must do as he commanded. The Kumaroi felt they had no choice but to obey, and soon the guru had the run of the camp and the people were wearing themselves out fetching food, and keeping his campfire burning all day and all night. The guru got fatter and lazier and meaner as time went on. The Kumaroi were at their wits’ end. They could not think of a single thing they could do to get rid of this terrible creature.
One day a stranger wandered into the camp. He waited politely until one of the people approached and invited him in. They apologised and told him that while he could rest at their camp as a guest, they could not offer him any food or a warm campfire and he would have to make do just as they had to.
“Why is this?” the stranger asked.
The people explained the situation to him, and it didn’t take long for the stranger to understand because the guru was rolling around fatly next to a nice warm campfire, and helping himself to the large piles of food that lay around him in dozens of coolamons.
“I see,” said the stranger.
So he approached the creature and he said, “Good morning guru.”
The guru looked at him condescendingly and said rudely, “Who are you?”
“I am a visitor,” said the stranger, “I have come to the Kumaroi seeking food and rest. May I sit by your campfire?”
“No you may not!” shouted the guru.
“I see,” said the stranger. “Then perhaps I could share some of your food. I have walked a long way and I am very hungry.”
“No you may not!” yelled the guru again.
The Kumaroi began to mutter amongst themselves, suspicious that something was afoot and also covertly enjoying the spectacle that was unfolding before them.
“So tell me guru, are you in charge of this tribe?” the stranger said.
“Yes I am. In fact, I am in charge of everything!” said the guru meanly.
“Are you in charge of the moon and the stars?” asked the stranger.
“Yes!” shouted the guru.
“Are you in charge of the sun and the rain?”
“Yes, yes, what is the point of all these questions? Just go away will you,” said the guru irritably.
“So,” said the stranger, “let me understand. Does all this mean that you are also in charge of Biamie?” asked the stranger.
The Kumaroi who were all gathered around together listening to these exchanges gasped in shock.
“In charge of Biamie? I am Biamie!” cried the guru crossly. Before their very eyes the stranger grew and grew, and then he bellowed, “No guru, I am Biamie!”
And while all the Kumaroi watched the guru become smaller and smaller until he was squeaking and running around in circles and the stranger, who they realised was Biamie flew up into the sky and disappeared. The tribe breathed a huge sigh of relief and went back to their old way of life when they were happy and content, before the terrible guru had arrived to ruin everything. The now tiny guru sat in the dirt shivering in fear until a little girl wandered over and said, “Shoo guru! Or someone might catch you and eat you!” The creature squeaked in fright and ran away to hide. And that is why the guru is such a timid and fearful animal, because he is always afraid that he will be caught. The Kumaroi vowed never to hunt the guru so that they would always be reminded to be polite and generous to others.”
Narramaroo finished her story and Balin nodded, pleased. The little girls were yawning widely, and Balin took them from his lap and laid them down by the campfire where they instantly fell asleep.
He stretched out his legs and said, “Thank you Narramaroo, that was a good story.”
“Yes,” said Narramaroo. “It’s one of my favourites, I haven’t thought about it for a long time. You are right, it’s good for the girls to be reminded of their Kumaroi heritage too.”
She smiled at him, and Balin flushed with pleasure. She snuggled down next to her children and she too went to sleep. Balin lay back with his arms behind his head feeling peaceful.
The night noises around him were soothing, and he could hear the crickets and nocturnal birds making their sounds. He breathed deeply and half closed his eyes. He was filled with love and connection to his country and he felt very fortunate to be Duradjuri and surrounded by the land that provided and cared for him so well. A song appeared in his head and instead of sleeping, he sat up and drew the pattern of the song in the dirt by the light of the fire. An ancestor spirit, attracted to him because of the settled energy that flowed around him and the woman and her daughters, had brought the song to him. He spent a long time drawing the song and used all the symbols that he had been taught over the years to mark the progression of the story. When it was finished he brushed the whole thing away with one long sweep of his large hand, and the ancestor spirit who had been keeping him company flew away to a find another relation to sit with.
Their journey was drawing to a close and the little girls were becoming tired. Narramaroo and Balin took turns in carrying them and telling them stories. They stopped frequently while they walked to let them practise little hunting or bush gathering exercises. Kooloona was the more industrious of the two and even though she was only five, took her responsibilities very seriously. She collected as many bush foods as she could and took them to her mother to check before she stored them in her tiny dilly bag. She tried to hunt too, and Balin would find her standing very still holding a stick aloft waiting for a lizard to come along.
“Shhh!” she would say gravely, and Balin would creep away trying to stifle his laughter.
Wyomee was a different girl altogether. She preferred to ride in Balin’s arms as they walked, with one plump arm slung around his neck and the other stroking his curly beard. She chattered incessantly to him about everything she saw or heard; the birds, the wind, emus, kangaroos, anything that caught her interest. One day she was chirping away in his ear, and Balin, who had stopped listening to her and answe
ring her questions hours ago, was thinking about something else.
“Uncle! Uncle!” she said, pulling on his beard to get his attention. “Are you? Are you?”
Balin switched her to his other arm. “Am I what?” he answered tiredly. Only one more day’s journey and they would be home. He needed to rest and he was looking forward to seeing his wife.
“You build big gunyah for me and Mummy and you and Loona?”
“What?” he said, shocked.
“For me and Mummy and Loona and then you can come inside too and we all sleep together,” she said in a satisfied tone.
“Maybe,” said Balin softly.
He glanced over at Narramaroo who had overhead Wyomee. She met his eyes and bit her lip, shaking her head a little.
“When we get to camp, Mummy has to see all her friends and spend her time talking and cooking,” he shrugged his shoulders at Narramaroo.
He set Wyomee down who grabbed her sister’s hand and ran ahead.
“We need to talk,” said Narramaroo.
“Yes,” he said. “Tonight is our last night, we’ll speak then.”
They reached the billabong where Balin had made camp near the beginning of his journey. As they entered the cool space he heard Narramaroo draw in her breath sharply.
She looked at him with shining eyes, “This is the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen!” she exclaimed and she walked around the spot exploring and making sounds of wonder.
Balin couldn’t help but agree. This was a magical place, with a gentle slope running down to the billabong, gums and bush perfectly arranged against a beaming cerulean sky. High-sloping rocks, warm from the sunlight stood ready to lean on, or to be used to dive into the sweet watery depths. Wild life nosed around, turtles were visible in the water, lizards sun-baked and blinked wisely at them all. Even the air felt fresher, purified by the plentiful foliage and a pleasant north-easterly breeze.
The little girls ran down to the water’s edge and found the footprints that Balin had made there a few weeks ago, still perfectly preserved in the crunchy and pristine bush gravel.
“Look what I’ve found!’ said Wyomee. “What are these Uncle?’’
Balin made a great show of examining the footprints and then he said to her very seriously, “I believe these are bunyip footprints,” and he growled.
The girls ran around screaming until Balin said, “Don’t worry Wyomee and Kooloona. I have met this bunyip, he is very furry like a wombad and he is almost always asleep. Mind, if you swim too far out he just might reach up and take you down to his burrow.”
They looked at him solemnly and promised to play only in the dapple-lit shallows.
While Narramaroo set up camp Balin went away and returned very shortly with two plain turkeys and a goanna. The game in this particular area was abundant and even the billabong was replete with platypus and yabis. It was easy for Balin to use his boomerang to bring back food for them all without too much trouble. Narramaroo sent the children to look for bush tomatoes and crisp water reeds to eat with their meal, and both she and Balin set about preparing and cooking the meat. When the campfire flames had burnt down and their dinner was nestled deep into the coals to roast, Balin finally spoke.
“You heard what Wyomee said today.”
Narramaroo nodded. “She is very fond of you Balin. When her father was killed she missed him terribly. He was of a similar nature to you,” she stopped, tears welling.
“I do understand that she is missing her father Narramaroo, it’s just that I’m now responsible for maintaining your safety until you decide what you want to do, not to replace him. Wyomee needs to understand that.” Balin said firmly.
Narramaroo sighed, “I know, I’ll talk to her. Balin, I want to thank you with all my heart for convincing me to leave. I thought that I deserved the punishment that had been dealt to me.”
“It was wrong Narramaroo. I have never seen a tribe behave the way they did. As a fellow warrior your husband would have wanted me to act in good faith with Biamie, and protect you and your daughters. That’s what Duradjuri do.”
Narramaroo gave him a beautiful smile, “Yes,” she said. “That is exactly what he would have wanted.”
Balin felt his stomach lurch with desire and disappointment, she’s still in love with her husband he thought, and he pushed his feelings away.
“I’ll talk to my wife when we get home,” he said. “She is a very nice woman, she’ll make you feel at home in the women’s camp, and then I or one of the other men will escort you back to the Kumaroi when you are ready.”
“What is her name?” asked Narramaroo.
“Weena,” and with that Wyomee and Kooloona returned, proudly clutching the bush foods they had found and they all sat down to eat.
Weena was the first to spot Balin. She was sitting in front of their gunyah for a change, as she was growing tired of the gossiping and competitiveness at the women’s camp where she had spent most of her days since Balin’s departure. She observed that he wasn’t alone and she walked over to the men’s camp to call for Wowhely. She advised him that Balin had returned and brought company. They both waited at the edge of the camp until he was within eyesight and they waved to him, both happy to see him home and safe. Weena could see that his companions were a woman and two little girls. Balin turned to them and they sat on the ground together while he approached his home. When Balin saw Weena he smiled hugely.
“Weena! I have missed you!”
Weena felt shy.
“And I you husband, it’s very good to see you,” and they embraced.
Wowhely slapped him on the shoulder, grinning with delight. He was glad to see Balin too – he was one of the most accomplished warriors of the tribe and a good friend.
“Who is it you have waiting Balin?” asked Weena curiously.
“That is Narramaroo and her two children, Wyomee and Kooloona,” replied Balin.
“Those are Kumaroi names,” exclaimed Weena, “Is that how far you have come? From Kumaroi country?”
Of course thought Balin. Weena was once a Kumaroi woman, her first husband Eunony had met her at one of the great corroborees many years ago.
“I will explain everything, first I need to find a campfire and eat. Narramaroo is happy to wait while I tell you what has happened.”
Weena bustled off to fetch the food and when she returned the three sat around the main communal campfire while Balin related his story. Weena sat in shocked silence, and Wowhely shook his head with displeasure.
“I remember that karandajin from the last few corroborees. He was always reluctant to share stories or skills with the others around the campfire, I never trusted him,” he said.
Balin agreed.
“It’s not healthy to separate men and women like that, it upsets the natural balance of all things. What if our wild life took up the same practice? There would never be any new life or young to replace the old.” Just talking about it bothered him immensely.
“That karandajin doesn’t carry his responsibilities properly, he works only for himself and wants power over others,” said Weena angrily.
They were quiet for a moment and then Weena rose.
“I’ll go and collect Narramaroo and take her and the children to the women’s camp. I’ll introduce them to the others and then we’ll build a gunyah of her own. Don’t worry husband, we will make right what has gone badly wrong.”
Balin stood too and hugged her tightly, “Thank you wife. You are a kind and generous woman, just as I have told Narramaroo.”
Weena grinned at him, “I’m happy to welcome her Balin, but you should go over to the men’s camp and ask someone to give you a shave. I’ve never seen you look so hairy!”
Weena strode through the bush grass towards Narramaroo, waving and calling out a greeting and welcome in Kumaroi. Narramaroo stood up and waved back
happily while the children danced around her impatiently, and Balin was pleased.
Narramaroo was welcomed heartily by the Duradjuri women. While everyone was present she made a point of presenting Weena with a gift as a way of pre-empting her hospitality. She did this because Weena was Balin’s wife and it was a gesture of respect on her part towards the senior woman. Weena accepted the little white cowrie shell with delight and immediately strung it onto her hair belt. It didn’t take long for an unexpected and strong bond to develop between the two women, and Weena began spending more and more time with Narramaroo at her gunyah, babysitting the children and cooking. Narramaroo was also a capable hunter and brought back enough food every day for them all to eat. Balin stayed at his gunyah watching them go about their daily activities and grew progressively irritated over the new arrangement. Weena is my wife, he said to himself, she should be here with me; and he realised he was lonely.
A few weeks later Weena came back to the gunyah and was sitting quietly by their fire using her grinding stone to make needles from a few fish bones she had saved. Eventually she would use them to sew up possum cloaks for the coming cool months. Balin came over and sat down next to her and grouchily poked at the coals with a stick.
At first she didn’t take much notice of him and then said, “Balin, are you going hunting?” her head was down and she was concentrating on her task.
Balin glowered at her and didn’t answer.
She lifted her head again and said, “Balin, are you?”
“No,” he said grumpily, “Why should I go hunting for you Weena? You’re never here,” and he snapped the stick he was holding in half.
“Well, perhaps you could go hunting for yourself,” she replied evenly.
“So could you!” he said nastily.