First published by Magabala Books Aboriginal Corporation, Broome,
Western Australia in 2007, reprinted 2008, 2011
Website: www.magabala.com Email: [email protected]
Magabala Books receives financial assistance from the Commonwealth Government through the Australia Council, its arts advisory body. The State of Western Australia has made an investment in this project through the Department of Culture and the Arts in association with Lotterywest.
Copyright © Text Jane Christophersen, illustrations Christine Christophersen
All rights reserved. Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of private study, research, criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright Act, no part of this publication may be reproduced by any process whatsoever without the written permission of the author, the illustrator and the publisher.
Designed by Jo Hunt
National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry
Christophersen, Jane.
Kakadu calling.
For primary school children.
ISBN 9781921248009.
1. Kakadu National Park (N.T.) - Juvenile fiction. I. Title.
A823.4
To all my family and every child who reads this book; and to Kim and Magabala Books who made it possible.
Finding My Way Home
Burrki was ten years old. He was living with his grandparents in the hilly country, while his father and mother attended ceremonies back in their own country, on the coast.
Burrki was lonely and he missed his family very much. He had to wait for four full moons to pass before his parents returned to collect him. Burrki knew that was a long time because he had already seen two full moons pass. To have to wait for two more made him feel very sad.
‘I don’t think I’ll see my mum and dad again,’ he sniffed with tears in his eyes. ‘I might just go and look for them. I’m sure they’ll be happy to see me.’
For many days, Burrki sat and watched the sun rise and set. His father had told him which way to walk, and how many days it would take, to reach his home by the ocean. For his parents it was only two days walk, but for young Burrki it would be at least three.
‘I know I can do it. I’ve done it before with my family, and once I’ve gone over the hills, it will be easy.’
Burrki didn’t tell his grandparents about his plan because he didn’t want them to worry.
One morning, Burrki got up before the sun had risen, and he made a mark on the ground with a special stone that his granny had given him. Burrki took the stone out from a little bag he wore around his neck, and he drew a round circle with an arrow pointing in the direction he was headed. He then placed the stone in the circle, so that his granny would know it was his mark. This sign would tell her that he was going home.
Gathering up his spear, a little bit of wallaby meat and some cooked yams, Burrki packed his dillybag, which his granny had made from the leaves of the pandanus tree, and he left.
Burrki walked across the plains towards the foothills, and then he began to climb. The sun was just peeping over the top of the hills, and to stay walking in the right direction, Burrki knew to keep the morning sun in front of him.
It was already getting hot so Burrki decided that he would rest when he found some shade. When he saw the dark entrance of a cave, he crawled in under the mossy rock. The air was cool and fresh and there was a trickle of water running down the cliff face into a small pool. He was able to have a drink and wash his face. After eating some of his meat and yam, Burrki lay down and went to sleep.
Suddenly a loud noise startled him, and he sat up and looked outside. He could see lightning flashing, and then came the rumbling of thunder.
Burrki was very scared and he said to himself, ‘Did I do something wrong?’
When he looked up towards the roof of the cave, he could see paintings of the lightning man on the rock walls.
‘I’m sorry I came into this cave without telling you first. My name is Burrki and I’m going to look for my father and mother. I’m truly, truly sorry.’
Burrki lay down and watched and waited. The lightning looked like it was throwing down big balls of light. He was very frightened, and he wondered if this was his punishment for running away and not telling his grandparents.
At last the lightning and thunder stopped, but it was still raining. It rained until late afternoon so Burrki decided to sleep in the cave. When he woke the next morning, he ate some meat and then set off again on his journey. As a mark of respect he called out to the lightning man that he was leaving, and he thanked him for looking after him.
All that morning Burrki scrambled up and down over rocks, and squeezed through clefts in the rock formations. Some of the rocks he didn’t recognise at all, while others were a bit familiar. By lunchtime, he’d reached the bottom of a big cliff and he could no longer see the sun, or what direction it was in.
Not knowing what to do, Burrki sat on the ground and looked up at the cliff walls. What he then noticed made him happy. The shadows of the rocks on the cliff face were getting higher so he knew the sun was going down behind him. It was also getting dark and he had to look for somewhere to sleep.
Burrki hadn’t brought his firesticks with him, but he wasn’t cold. For a while he sat listening to the different sounds of the early evening. First he heard the bookbook owl calling out. He answered it because it may have been the spirit of an old man. His father had told him many stories of the owls who carried the spirits of old men who had passed away.
Then the dingoes started howling. At first it frightened him because they made an eerie sound, but he just sat quietly and they soon stopped. Then he heard rustling in the grass and he saw the shadows of bandicoots and a porcupine sniffing around. When it was too dark to see anything, he found a place under a rock ledge and fell fast asleep.
It was early in the morning when he felt something sliding down his back, but he dared not move because when he opened his eyes, he could just see the head of a python slithering past. Terrified, Burrki felt a cold shiver ripple down his spine.
He desperately wanted to jump up and run, but he could hear his father’s voice saying, ‘Don’t move when a snake is near you. Stay quiet and it will go away.’
Trying to stay calm, Burrki closed his eyes and waited until he could feel the last of the snake’s body slide down his back, and over his legs. He let out a big sigh of relief, but still he didn’t move. When he thought enough time had passed, Burrki got up and followed the snake tracks across the sand to a low ridge where he could see it was resting. The python had a big bulge in his stomach. ‘I think he had one bandicoot for his supper last night,’ thought Burrki.
Burrki returned to his sleeping place and ate the last of his wallaby meat and yam. He set off again, and by early afternoon he’d climbed his way through the hills and had emerged out onto a rocky ledge. He sat down and looked across the plains. Dotted here and there were wild buffaloes. Burrki wasn’t that worried about them, but they were huge animals, and he had once heard about a man being chased and gored in the leg.
He sat for a long time watching them graze. His father said that if the wind was blowing away from the animals, they wouldn’t be able to smell you, but Burrki could see that the buffaloes were in no hurry to leave their feeding place. He would have to find a way to make them leave. It was already mid-afternoon and he was getting worried.
Burrki knew that if he lit a fire the buffaloes would move on, but he didn’t have a firestick, and there was no wood amongst the rocks. Then he remembered how his father had taught him to hit two stones together to make fire. First he looked for hard rocks, not soft ones, and then he collected a bunch of grass and rubbed it until it was soft. Burrki had everything
he needed, but he still had to find a way to carry the fire to the plain.
He went searching for wood and came across a pandanus tree. One of its trunks was dead and had fallen over. Burrki could use the trunk as a firestick because there was soft fibre inside it, which would burn very slowly once it had been lit.
He waited until he felt the breeze coming in from the hills, and then he quickly got the stones and hit one against the other. Soon sparks landed on the grass below and it caught alight. He put some inside the pandanus trunk and blew and blew until the soft fibre began burning. Burrki carried his new firestick down to where the long grass grew and put the fire to it. Almost immediately it began to blaze and burn.
He climbed back up to the ledge and watched the fire move through the plain. The buffaloes saw the smoke and flames and the herd turned and ran away. Burrki was happy now that he didn’t have to worry about buffaloes and snakes. He would be able to continue his journey through the woodland and creeks. Although he was hungry, he would have to wait until morning to go hunting. The next day he was up before the sun and he looked out over the plain. The fire had burnt itself out and there wasn’t a buffalo to be seen.
Burrki gathered his things and set off. He soon came to a creek with cool, fast-flowing water. He knew it was clean because he could see the sandy bottom and, without hesitating, he jumped in. First he quenched his thirst with a long drink and then he had a wash, rubbing sand against his body to get rid of the dust and dirt.
By now Burrki was ravenously hungry, so he climbed onto a log poking up out of the water and he stood with his spear ready. Before long, a catfish swam out from under the log. With careful aim, Burrki threw his weapon and speared the fish. Because he’d been so hungry, he speared a second catfish to eat later. Burrki lit a fire with his firestick, and he soon had his breakfast cooking on the coals.
Carrying his firestick, Burrki walked along the edge of the creek. Every now and again he stopped to pick berries and quench his thirst. He knew that if he followed the creek it would bring him to where his mother’s family lived. The country began to change and he moved into the woodland where the trees were tall. Here the jungle started to get dense and no sun could get through.
‘Now I must remember to keep the sun behind me or I’ll get lost,’ Burrki told himself.
Burrki walked and walked, and at last he could hear the sound of waves crashing against the shoreline. He emerged from the thick vegetation and came out near a beautiful beach. Burrki could hear the breeze blowing through the casuarina trees. It was as if they were talking to him and saying they were happy to see him.
Looking around, Burrki realised he wasn’t far from his uncle’s house — it was just around the point. As he walked along the beach, he looked down at the tracks of turtles that had laid their eggs above the high-water mark. He crossed a little creek — the same creek that he had followed for miles from the hilly country, except it was now running into the salt water.
Burrki also saw crocodile tracks. He cautiously looked around in case the crocodile was still around, but then he saw the slides in the sand where it had come up and gone back out to sea.
Burrki reached the point and walked around the rocks. A little way down the beach he could see mobs of children and dogs playing under the trees. Immediately the dogs started barking and came bounding towards him. He wasn’t afraid because he knew most of them, and he yelled out for them to be quiet.
By this time all the children were running and calling, ‘Burrki! Burrki! Burrki!’ Burrki’s uncle was standing outside his house in the shadow of the trees. He didn’t move, but stood and waited for Burrki to come to him.
‘How did you get here?’ he asked.
‘I walked from Granny’s place. I was lonely and I wanted to come home,’ said Burrki.
‘Well,’ said his uncle, ‘you’re a brave boy to walk all that way by yourself. How long did it take you?’
‘I think it was four days because I slept three nights,’ said Burrki.
That night there was a big corroboree for Burrki and he had to tell the story of his adventure over and over again. He had been right. Everyone was happy to see him and he was glad to be home. Burrki enjoyed all this attention, but he also knew that when his mother and father returned from their ceremonies, he would receive a punishment for running away from his grandparents.
Fishing Trip
Namanji and Bulak were two brothers who lived on an island off the north coast of Australia. Namanji was the oldest. He was thirteen years old and Bulak was eleven.
One weekend, Namanji and Bulak were told that their uncle and aunty and cousins were coming in from their inland outstation to visit. When the boys’ mother said that they would need more food, Namanji and Bulak decided to take their canoe out and go fishing. They grabbed their fishing lines, a knife and a bottle of water, and put them into a plastic bucket at the front of their canoe. Bulak also packed his three-pronged spear.
Namanji said, ‘We’ll take one paddle as we won’t be going too far, only just around the point.’
Everyone from the community went down to the beach to see the boys off, and they were all laughing and splashing in the water.
‘Goodbye,’ called their father, ‘and bring home plenty of fish.’
Namanji paddled and paddled, until they were able to steer the canoe past the point, and they could no longer see the houses back on the shoreline.
‘We’ll fish near the reef,’ said Namanji. ‘I’ve got some hermit crabs for bait, and when we’ve caught some small fish, we’ll cut them up, and use them to catch some really big fish.’
‘Alright,’ agreed Bulak.
Namanji threw a hand line in, and almost at once caught a small parrot fish. He killed it and cut it up. He then put a piece of bait on a line for Bulak and one for himself. Bulak was the first to get a bite and he gave a sharp tug. He started to pull his line in.
‘Oh boy! Look, Namanji! It’s a nice rock cod. We’ll keep this one,’ he said.
Namanji still wasn’t getting any bites and then Bulak caught a nice snapper.
Bulak was getting excited and he said to Namanji, ‘I don’t think you’ll catch any more fish today.’
No sooner had Bulak spoken, than the line went running through Namanji’s hand, and the reel was spinning in the bottom of the canoe. The line was burning Namanji’s hand and as he bent down to get the reel, he knocked the paddle over the side and into the water.
‘Grab the paddle!’ Namanji yelled to Bulak.
Bulak couldn’t get to it quick enough and already the fish was pulling the canoe a long way off the reef.
‘What do we do?’ cried Bulak.
‘We’ll have to see which way we’re going. If we go further out, then I’ll have to cut the line,’ yelled Namanji.
Nearly five minutes passed, and the fish was still racing through the water. Namanji grabbed the knife and cut the line. Finally the canoe slowed down and then stopped.
‘I would’ve liked to have seen what kind of fish it was,’ said Namanji, almost out of breath, ‘but somehow I think it was a shark.’
The brothers had now lost their only paddle. They hoped that other people were out fishing and could see them drifting. If they weren’t back by lateafternoon, their family would know something had happened and a search would begin.
The brothers didn’t fish anymore. There was no point because any fish they caught would just go bad and be wasted. In the distance, they could see a shower of rain on the horizon with big, black clouds. The rain quickly swept in and at first it cooled them down, but after a while they began to feel cold.
‘It’s alright, Bulak,’ said Namanji, his teeth chattering, ‘I don’t think it’ll last very long.’
Suddenly Bulak looked over Namanji’s shoulder, and with a shaky voice he asked his older brother, ‘What’s that?’
Namanji spun around and what he saw frightened him. It was a waterspout. The wind was sucking up the water and whirling it high into the
air.
‘Keep your head down and don’t look. It’s a waterspout!’ shouted Namanji.
He too put his head down between his knees, hoping that this massive water twister would go away. The rain was coming down harder, and the canoe was rocking from side to side.
Bulak was really frightened now, and said to Namanji, ‘If we tip into the sea, don’t leave me! Promise me, Namanji!’
‘I promise,’ cried his older brother. ‘We’ll swim together, but right now, Bulak, we’ve got to get this water out of the canoe.’
He pointed to the two baler shells lying on the floor of the canoe. ‘Grab them, Bulak. It’s time to start bailing.’
They bailed and bailed and bailed. When Namanji finally looked up he saw the waterspout had moved a long way out.
‘Hey, Bulak, you can stop now,’ said Namanji.
‘I’m glad. I had my eyes closed the whole time, I was so scared.’
‘Yes,’ said Namanji, ‘me too. But I think we’ll be all right now because the wind is blowing us towards that beach.’
Away in the distance they could see the outline of a small island on the horizon.
The two brothers used their hands to paddle, and some time later they made it to the shoreline. They were exhausted, but very happy to be back on the land. They pulled the canoe up high on the beach so the tide couldn’t take it, and then they collapsed onto the sand under a casuarina tree.
Keeping an eye on the canoe, they wondered if their family had started to worry for them. They knew it was wise to stay on the beach until their family arrived.
‘Well,’ said Namanji, ‘we’re on land and we know how to find water.’
‘Yes,’ said Bulak. ‘Now we really do have to look after ourselves.’
The rain began to ease off and Namanji could see some blue sky in the distance.
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