Kakadu Calling

by Jane Christophersen

  ‘I think it will be fine tomorrow,’ he said, ‘but for tonight we just have to drink water, no fish, because the wood is too wet.’

  The brothers climbed over a sandhill and found some pandanus palms growing in a hollow, near the treeline. They dug into the hollow and soon water started to seep to the surface. They filled their bottle and returned to the casuarina tree, promising each other not to talk about food until the morning. They made themselves comfortable on the cool sand and lay down to sleep.

  The next morning a soft breeze was blowing and the sea was calm. The brothers chose the highest sandhill they could find and climbed to the top. When they looked around, they could see their island away in the distance. They couldn’t see their community though, because that was located on the other side of the island.

  ‘We must gather lots of wood to make a fire with smoke,’ said Namanji to his brother.

  They collected wood, grass and green leaves and laid them in a big pile on top of the sandhill.

  ‘How are we going to light it?’ asked Bulak, with a worried voice. He was still feeling a bit shaky after seeing the waterspout the day before.

  ‘I’ll show you,’ answered Namanji. ‘Go get the knife from the canoe while I look for some wood to make firesticks.’

  By the time Bulak had returned with the knife, Namanji had found some soft wood from the hibiscus tree and some hard wood from the casuarina tree. Namanji shaped both pieces the way his father had taught him. First he carved out a hollow in the hibiscus wood, and made a small v-shaped cut in the side of the hollow. Then he laid the hibiscus wood on the ground, and with his foot keeping it steady, he placed the casuarina stick in the hollow and began rotating it swiftly between his hands. Before long the sticks had heated up enough to create a smouldering ember. The ash from the ember fell down onto the grass and lit the fire.

  ‘First we’ll cook the fish,’ said Namanji. The day before they’d buried the fish in the wet sand to keep them fresh. ‘They still smell okay’, he said.

  After cooking the fish in the hot embers, they built up the fire again and added more wood. Then they piled the green leaves onto the burning wood to make lots of smoke. Someone was sure to see the smoke and come looking.

  All morning the brothers took turns keeping a lookout for a smoke signal from their island. At mid-day, Namanji decided to go and hunt some mudcrabs for their lunch. He followed the tide out, searching the flat rock beds. With Bulak’s spear he was able to catch a couple of good-sized mudcrabs swimming in a shallow rock pool. They cooked the crabs on the fire, and then once again, built it up with wood and green leaves.

  Some time had passed when Bulak shouted to Namanji, ‘I can see smoke on the island! They’re coming for us!’

  The boys waited anxiously before they finally saw a motorboat heading towards the island. They sprinted down to the beach and saw that it was their father steering. They waved excitedly and as the boat pulled up, the boys went splashing into the water and hauled themselves up to give their father a hug. Their father took a good look at them and when he was satisfied that they were both all right, he dropped the boat’s anchor. He jumped into the water and together they went back up to the beach to sort out the fishing gear.

  Before they left, they pulled the canoe high onto the beach, way beyond the high-tide mark. They would return another day to pick it up. For now, the boys were keen to get home and see their family. As they motored back to their island, they could see all their family and friends gathered on the shore to greet them. Everyone was happy to see the two boys and they wanted to know what happened.

  ‘It’s a long story,’ said Namanji. ‘Bulak and I will tell you later.’

  Visit to the City

  Mardjibi lived with her family on a remote outstation about twenty kilometres from Oenpelli, a community in the Northern Territory.

  One day, Mardjibi’s father had an accident while he was working. He had broken his leg and because there were no doctors or nurses on the outstation, he had to be flown to hospital in Darwin by the Royal Doctor Flying Service.

  Darwin was the nearest city to their home and it was nearly 300 km away. Mardjibi and her mother, and the baby, Gillie, were allowed to go too, but Mardjibi’s older brothers would have to stay behind with their uncle.

  This was to be Mardjibi’s first ride on an aeroplane. When her mother strapped her into her seatbelt and the plane engines were starting, she became very frightened. Her mother held her hand and told her that everything would be all right. When the plane sped down the runway and took off into the air, it made Mardjibi’s stomach very fluttery and she squeezed her eyes shut. After a while, when she heard her mother and father laughing together, she began to relax. She even felt brave enough to look out the window.

  Way down below, Mardjibi could see beautiful billabongs with waterlilies and lots of birds swimming on the water. There were wild buffaloes too, and from so high up in the sky, they looked like small insects. Further on she could see anthills of all different shapes and sizes. Their strange shapes made them look like people dotted across the country.

  It wasn’t too long before her mother said that they were about to land at the Darwin airport. Mardjibi looked down and saw tall buildings and roads, and cars going this way and that way. She closed her eyes, and clutched the arms of her seat as the plane flew down from the sky and landed on the runway with a big bump. They sped along and the plane finally came to a stop. Climbing down off the plane steps onto the airport tarmac, the ground felt hard and hot. Mardjibi was used to dirt under her feet, not this hard ground.

  An ambulance was waiting to take her father to the hospital, and Mardjibi and her mother and sister caught a taxi to their auntie’s house.

  Mardjibi’s mother had to do some shopping while they were in Darwin, as they all needed new clothes and thongs. The next morning they rode to the big shopping centre in a taxi. When they got to the sliding doors at the entrance, Mardjibi was very surprised to see the doors open by themselves. As they walked through, she got frightened that the doors would close and she would be crushed, so she let go of her mother’s hand and quickly ran through.

  The shopping centre was freezing cold and so were the floors. Mardjibi couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw people sliding up a big stairway and others sliding down. Her mother called it an ‘escalator’ and she told Mardjibi that they too had to ride the escalator to get to the shops. Mardjibi was terrified that her toes would get caught, but she leapt onto the moving steps and held firmly on to the rails.

  There were people everywhere. Mardjibi had never seen so many people in one place. They all seemed to be very busy and many of them were rushing in and out of shops holding bags and pushing trolleys. Mardjibi made sure that she was holding her mother’s hand tightly, just in case her mother got lost.

  They went into a shop that sold clothes, so Mardjibi was able to get some dresses and a pair of thongs. At first the thongs were hard on her feet and kept slipping sideways, but she slowly got used to walking in them.

  In the afternoon, they caught another taxi to the hospital to see Mardjibi’s father. This time a door opened by itself and people stepped into a tiny room! It was called a ‘lift’ and Mardjibi’s stomach hit the roof of her mouth when it started to go up. She was terrified, but before she could get the words out and tell her mother, the lift stopped and the doors opened.

  She looked around and happily she saw her father in a bed opposite. He had a big, white leg and it was raised up off the bed. It looked so funny that Mardjibi asked her father why the doctor had given him one white leg and one black leg. Her father laughed and told her that it was called a ‘plaster’. He explained that when his leg was better, they would take the plaster off and he would look the same again.

  Through the hospital window Mardjibi could see the ocean. ‘Can we drink that water?’ she asked.

  ‘No,’ said her father, ‘That water is salty.’

  ‘Can we go and have a look at it?’
<
br />   Mardjibi’s father knew that his young daughter had never seen the sea before and he said, ‘Your mother will take you tomorrow.’

  The next morning as soon as she got up, Mardjibi begged her mother to take them down to the beach.

  ‘After breakfast,’ her mother said.

  Mardjibi walked along the footpath with her mother and Gillie, and they carefully crossed the road at the pedestrian crossing. Mardjibi was a little nervous as the cars stopped to let them cross, but she did think the white stripes on the road looked funny. However, she soon forgot about the stripes when they walked over the grass and climbed down the steps onto the beach.

  Mardjibi’s mouth fell open. She stared and stared and stared. She had never seen so much water. This water could make big waves. She watched the water as it slowly moved towards her and then rushed out again. The sand was soft between her toes, and she walked down to the shoreline and stood still while the water covered her feet. She scooped up two handfuls of water and tried to drink it.

  ‘Yuk!’ she spluttered. ‘I don’t like this water at all.’

  Mardjibi went back up to the soft sand and sat with her mum and little Gillie. She scooped up some sand and let it run through her fingers. After a while Mardjibi felt tired sitting in the hot sun, so she found a shady tree and lay down to watch the seagulls flying and skittering along the beach.

  She could hear rustling in the leaves under the trees, and she called out to her mother, ‘I can hear strange noises. Maybe it’s a snake!’

  ‘No, look there,’ said her mother, pointing towards the base of the tree.

  Mardjibi turned and saw shells walking around. ‘What are they?’ she asked.

  ‘They’re called hermit crabs,’ said her mother, as she walked over and put Gillie down in the sand.

  Mardjibi picked up a tiny crab but it closed up into its shell.

  ‘Just whistle and the crab will open up,’ said her mother.

  Mardjibi whistled and suddenly the crab turned over and started to walk. Gillie started to giggle and clap her hands. Mardjibi tried to collect some more hermit crabs, but they were too quick and scuttled away.

  ‘Where do they go to?’ she asked.

  ‘They bury themselves under the tree roots during the day,’ answered her mother, ‘and they come out at night to search for food.’

  When they visited her father in hospital later that day, Mardjibi told him about the hermit crabs, the big waves and how salty the water was.

  ‘It’s so different here,’ she said, ‘but I want to go home.’

  ‘Yes, I think we all do,’ said her mother. ‘As soon as your father can walk with crutches, we’ll go.’

  Mardjibi could then think of nothing else but going home. She thought of the waterlilies, and the pandanus palms, and the big, paperbark trees. She missed the smell of the fish and turtles cooking on the fire, and she just wanted to run and jump into the cool, fresh water of the billabong.

  Her tummy started to rumble and she imagined herself munching on the stems of the waterlily flowers, and gathering the bulbs to cook on the fire. She could almost taste the lovely, big juicy mussels and prawns that her father speared. There were hardly any cars and people on Mardjibi’s outstation, there was just her family. They would go looking for bush tucker during the day, and at night they would sit around the fire and tell stories.

  ‘I really want to go home,’ Mardjibi whispered to herself, as she thought about the places that she loved. She missed sleeping outside in her swag, watching the moon and stars at night, and listening to the dingoes howl. She imagined that first light in the morning when the birds would wake her up with their loud chatter. In the city there was too much noise from motorbikes and cars and planes. Mardjibi had to put her hand over her ears the first time she heard a big plane fly over.

  At last it was time to leave Darwin. This time, Mardjibi wasn’t so scared of getting onto the aeroplane. As she looked out the window at the buildings and cars speeding along, all she could think was, ‘I’m glad to be going home.’

  Dinky, the Dingo

  Sammy lived with his family in a small community near the great escarpment. Most of the time Sammy was known as ‘Brolga’, after the beautiful crane, because he was a tall boy, much taller than his friends.

  Brolga loved all the bush animals and birds, and every weekend his family would walk about three kilometres to their favourite camping place. On Friday afternoons, when Brolga got home from school, his mother would have their gear ready in little bags. Everyone, apart from his father, had to carry a bag. Brolga’s father only carried spears because that left his hands free to hunt for wallaby.

  This weekend, Brolga’s friend, Jimmy, was coming too. All he brought with him was a change of clothes and his fishing lines.

  ‘My mum says I have to bring home a big fish,’ he told Brolga’s mother.

  ‘I’m sure you will,’ she said. ‘There are lots in the river.’

  Everyone was ready, but they had to wait for Brolga’s father to get home from work. He drove the garbage truck for the local council.

  When he arrived, he ran into the house calling out, ‘I’ll just take off my boots and hat and get my spears!’

  Brolga’s little sister, Minnie, clapped her hands, for she knew that soon her father would swing her up and carry her on his shoulders.

  Everybody picked up a bag each and they set off. Brolga carried clothes, a fishing line, and a spear that his grandfather had made for him. His mother carried flour, sugar, tea, a billycan and two cups. Every now and again she would carry the bags on her head. Jimmy tried too, but his bag kept falling off.

  He said to Brolga, ‘Your mother is clever to carry things on her head. My mother can too, but it makes her neck ache, so now she carries everything in a dillybag.’

  Brolga’s father was walking a fair way out in front, when he turned and held his hand up. He put Minnie down, and told her to be very quiet. He had spotted a wallaby to spear for dinner. Brolga’s mother signalled for him to crawl through the grass to get his little sister.

  Minnie was just about to cry, when Brolga whispered, ‘Shh! Shh! Don’t cry, Daddy’s hunting for dinner.’

  Soon Brolga heard his father calling. He found him standing next to a wallaby that he had speared. His father said, ‘We have our dinner.’

  The two boys now took it in turns to carry Minnie, and soon they reached the point close to their camp. They walked around the point, beyond the river, to their camp by some low cliffs and a cave. Sometimes they slept inside the cave, but usually they camped in the open.

  As they laid out their gear, they could hear the bubbling sounds of the river and smell the sweet scent of paperbark flowers. Brolga’s mother decided to pick some blossoms and soak them in water. After a while she scooped out the flowers and poured a drink for everybody.

  ‘That tastes just like lemonade. Can we have some more?’ asked Brolga.

  ‘Yes, you can, but first go and get some wood so that your father can cook the wallaby,’ said his mother.

  The boys collected a great pile of wood because they knew the fire would also need to burn during the night, to ward off mosquitoes. Brolga’s father lit the fire and while he was waiting for it to burn down to coals, he prepared the meat. First he cut the neck of the wallaby and pulled out the innards. Then he stuffed paperbark leaves down its neck with a stick. When the fire was ready, he pushed the coals aside and dug a small hole. He put the wallaby into the hole and covered it with ashes and coals. He lit another fire nearby, in case they needed more coals.

  Brolga’s mother had brought out a roll of paperbark and the blankets that they kept in the cave. She spread them on the ground, paperbark first and then the blankets. Everyone sat around the fire and the smell of the cooking meat made the boys’ mouths water.

  In the meantime, Brolga’s father had put the billy on to make some tea. When it was boiled, Brolga sprinkled tea leaves in the water and lifted the billy off the fire. They never had mil
k in their tea when they were camping, only sugar.

  Finally, the wallaby was cooked, and Brolga’s father laid it down on a pile of leaves on the paperbark to cool. He pulled out his big knife and began to carve the meat into pieces, and then he added some salt. Everyone had their share, and the leftovers were stored in the cave for breakfast the next day.

  It was a bright night with a full moon, and they all settled down to sleep. Soon the only noise was that of the fire, crackling and burning. During the night they heard dingoes howling, and Jimmy and Brolga huddled together under a blanket, both feeling a bit scared.

  Brolga’s father said, ‘Go back to sleep. I’ll put more wood on the fire and that’ll keep them away.’

  Morning soon came, and the family woke to a chorus of singing birds and the chatter of a kookaburra. After breakfast Brolga and Jimmy grabbed their fishing lines. Down on the riverbank they were joking about who would catch the biggest fish, when they spotted a big, black crocodile swimming up and down the river.

  ‘If the croc disappears, come and climb up on this high rock’, warned Brolga’s father.

  Whenever they lost sight of the crocodile, the boys scrambled up onto the rock. This went on for a while, and then Jimmy’s line went running out.

  ‘Oh boy!’ he cried. ‘I think I’ve got a barramundi!’ Jimmy played the fish, but he was disappointed when he saw it was only a catfish.

  ‘Never mind. Maybe the next one,’ said Brolga’s father.

  Jimmy caught another catfish. ‘I’ll never catch a barra to take home,’ he moaned.

  ‘Hey, Jimmy, look at me. I haven’t caught a fish yet, but soon I’m gunna catch a real big one,’ replied Brolga.