As the weeks of sickness continued, Strehlow had begun to peruse with ever-increasing concern the various home medical books contained in his library. The trouble had been that his symptoms had seemed to fit several different diseases. It had not been until the first week of September that he had succeeded in diagnosing his real trouble. There could no longer be any doubts about it at this stage: he had originally suffered an attack of pleurisy and, because of long neglect, dropsy had now begun to set in. His swelling lower limbs and his constantly weakening condition, a little later also his increasing shortness of breath, had made him fully aware of the urgent necessity for seeking out medical help without delay. A message had been sent out recalling Heinrich to the station to resume charge of the school children, and Heinrich, thoroughly alarmed, had arrived back on the station on 5th September.
The problems of a rushed journey to the south had been seriously discussed as soon as Heinrich returned. The nearest railhead was Oodnadatta, four weeks’ travel from Hermannsburg; and Oodnadatta was also the nearest place to which a doctor could be asked to come in order to give medical treatment to a patient from Central Australia. But was Strehlow able, in his weakened condition, to stand a journey by horse and buggy to Oodnadatta? Finally the decision had been reached to appeal to the Mission Board to send a car to Hermannsburg in order to take Strehlow down to Oodnadatta. It was true that none of the Central Australian stations north of the Territory border owned any cars or trucks at that time. But the three parties of visitors who had safely reached Hermannsburg in cars within the past two years had proved that the mission settlement was accessible by this new mode of transport. The Mission Board had consulted Mr Murray Aunger, the head of an Adelaide car firm, who had replied that because of the extremely poor roads and the sandy creek crossings of the interior at least two cars would have to be sent, and that the cost could well be in the vicinity of £500. In consequence, the Board, through its new chairman, Pastor J. Stolz, had sent a message to Strehlow advising him to come down by buggy as best as he could and to place his trust in God to help him over his journey. When Strehlow had received that unexpected message, he had broken down for the first time during his illness. ‘For twenty-eight years,’ he protested bitterly, ‘I have held out at my post, and now my own clerical colleagues are dumping me. Undoubtedly they think that I will be of no further use to them, and that they are not going to waste any money on giving me a chance to live. For them to advise me to put my trust in God while they do nothing themselves to help me is merely sanctimonious claptrap. All my life I have believed in the power of religion, but now I am beginning to see how a religion without love and human kindness corrupts men. That is what Christ said about the Pharisees, and I am beginning to suspect that this is true also of too many of us who are Lutheran ministers. We attack sin so harshly that we forget that Christ came into the world for the sake of sinners, and that he told the self-righteous Pharisees that the publicans and the harlots would have a better chance of entering heaven than they themselves, despite all their outward show of hypocritical piety.’
Mattner, who had returned to Hermannsburg from the western part of the mission run about ten days after Heinrich, had been deeply shocked by the decline in Strehlow’s condition. From then on till the end of September Heinrich and Mattner, both of them probably afflicted by feelings of guilt for their earlier disregard of Strehlow’s serious illness had spared no efforts to bring the sick man in touch with medical aid. Like the rest of the people who had known Strehlow, they had not believed it possible that a man who had complained so little about his pains and who had so resolutely continued attending to his chores could have been so desperately ill. Aboriginal messengers were sent to Alice Springs with further telegraphic requests for help to be brought from the south; and Mattner himself had spent the last week of September at the Alice Springs hotel, sending wires both to the Board and to Oodnadatta for help in obtaining a car to come up to Hermannsburg and convey Strehlow to the south. When Mr Joe Breaden of Todmorden Station, the closest South Australian car owner, had felt unable to risk his vehicle on a journey into the sandy tract north of the Territory border, Heinrich, as a last desperate gesture, had sent a message to Stott, asking the latter to send appeals for help to the Reverend John Flynn, of the Presbyterian Inland Mission, to Sir Henry Barwell, the South Australian Premier, and to the Federal Works Committee. This message had not yielded any practical results. However a few days before the date set for Strehlow’s departure from Hermannsburg a message had arrived from Pastor Stolz stating that he would set out on his long-planned journey from Light’s Pass to Hermannsburg on the eleventh of October and that he had accepted the offer of a car from a member of the Appila Lutheran congregation, Mr Gotthold Wurst. Stolz and Wurst would, upon arrival at Oodnadatta, attempt to travel by car as far north as the road would permit them, in order to meet Strehlow, who would have to go south by buggy, possibly as far as the South Australian border.
These belated arrangements had done little to cheer up Strehlow, who by this time had begun to feel desperately ill. The Board’s failure to clinch a deal with Murray Aunger had been a shattering blow for him, and Strehlow had never completely recovered his confidence in his fellow clerics or in good church people. But he clung to his faith in God with redoubled determination. Old prayer-books, of which Starck’s Taegliches Handbuch was the most treasured one, had been taken off their shelves, and young Theo had been forced to overhear the impassioned supplications of his parents as they were being poured out night after night with fervour, faith, and whole-hearted devotion. For Theo’s bedroom adjoined that of his parents; and since the weather was already turning decidedly warm, the door between the two bedrooms had normally been left open, a curtain only being drawn to ensure privacy.
It was soon after the Board’s decision had been received that the order had been given to the head stockman to get the buggy and the van ready for the road, and to repair all the harness needed by the eight horses drawing the two vehicles.
And on this morning Strehlow knew that he was about to take the irrevocable step of leaving Hermannsburg on a journey which might end with his own death long before Oodnadatta had been reached. His physical condition had kept on deteriorating each day. His lower limbs were already so swollen that his trousers had to be let out considerably to enable him to wear them at all; and for the past week he had no longer been able to sleep in his bed. He had been forced to use an upholstered chair at night, so that he could sit upright without pressing too heavily with his back against any supports: for as soon as he lay down on his bed, the resulting compression of the fluids in his body made his breathing both difficult and painful. He had also been forced to push his trusted homoeopathic medicines aside and to use the strong drugs from the official medicine chest supplied to the station by the governmental health service. During the past week he had needed a full dose of laudanum every night in order to gain any sleep at all.
Such was the situation within the Superintendent’s house on that final morning, when scores of eyes were watching its double front doors patiently, eagerly, longingly, devotedly. The dark folk had not seen their ingkata for four weeks. The man on whose iron strength and determination they had always relied had suddenly been stricken down by an illness which the God in Whom he believed had refused to cure, or even to alleviate. For twenty-eight years he had been the great rockplate on which their whole settlement had been securely based. Like the ancient rockplates of Pmolangkinja in Palm Valley, their ingkata had seemed to be both immovable and indestructible. Certainly he had always been immune against the ailments of the body that assailed common men and women. And now he had been stricken down, still in his very best years, at the very height of his strength. What would he look like when he came out? What would happen to Hermannsburg, to the station from which he was departing without leaving a successor behind?
Suddenly the front doors opened. The watching multitude started to rise from the ground; but it was only Heinrich wh
o emerged and told the waiting men to harness up the horses. The two teams of horses that were to pull the buggy and the van on the first day had already been harnessed up on the previous afternoon so that the two vehicles could be tested on trial runs. This had been a necessary precaution. The snorting, whinnying, wild-eyed buggy horses had not been worked for many months previously. They had raced around in the yard in high-spirited arrogance, with streaming manes and tails, till the stockmen had caught them, put the winkers on them, and led them to the vehicles. It had taken two men to put the harness on each plunging horse, often rearing high on its hind legs, while other men linked the traces to the vehicles. The drivers had sat on their vehicles in a state of readiness while the stockmen were harnessing up the horses, four to each vehicle; for as soon as the reins had been fixed to the bits, and the rearing horses released, the half-wild creatures had leapt forward and galloped madly past the stockyard towards the plain north-east of the station, The drivers had permitted them to rush about at full pace once or twice around the edges of the plain till a furious two-mile run had steadied them. Then the vehicles had been driven back to the station. The buggy had been left in front of Strehlow’s house, with the van standing some distance in the rear. The horses had been unharnessed and hobbled out for the night, so that they could have ample time to feed on whatever grass remained close to the station. All harness had then been carefully inspected for broken seams and other signs of damage. Most of it had stood up well to the stresses of the initial plunges; but several of the stockmen had still had to spend an hour or two on restitching seams that had begun to come apart, and on fixing up minor tears in the less well-greased parts of the harness.
When Heinrich gave the order that morning for harnessing up the horses, only the four buggy horses were at first brought down from the yard. After their mad escapade of the previous day the animals were much more docile and rather easier to handle; but they were still allowed to take the empty buggy for another quick gallop over the plain before any of the passengers were called on to take their seats. For no one wished to subject Strehlow to any unnecessary sickening jerks. When the panting horses had brought the buggy back to the front fence gate, they were unhitched from the buggy, and the word was passed to those inside the house that all was ready. The whole population which had waited so patiently for so long now began to surge towards Strehlow’s residence, More than a hundred and seventy men, women, and children rushed forward and pressed hard against the front picket fence. In addition, the few people that had remained behind in the camp up to that moment now left their huts and came running to join the waiting assembly. Scores of campdogs, suddenly deserted by their masters and mistresses, set up the usual loud howls and wails that used to greet the beginning of the church services at Hermannsburg every Sunday morning. Only this time the barking, the yapping, and the howling of the dogs were much more harrowing; for not a soul had remained behind in the camp.
And now the double doors opened once more, and Strehlow himself at last emerged into view. He was supported by the strong arms of Mattner on one side and of Heinrich on the other. By summoning up all his strength, he managed to shuffle his feet forward by slow degrees, though the deep red flush on his face showed what anguish each step was costing him. ‘Jakai, ingkata nunaka!’ (‘Alas, our chief!’) was the first shout that greeted him. Men and women burst into tears upon seeing him looking so unexpectedly ill and weak. But there were no noisy outbreaks of wild grief, for voices were soon raised everywhere in the crowd, counselling respectful silence in the presence of the sick man. Strehlow reached the buggy with slow steps. Heinrich climbed up and joined the waiting Paschke. Some of the stronger native stockmen came forward and helped to lift the sick man’s feet on to the iron steps at the side of the buggy, while Heinrich and Paschke pulled him up from above. The greatest care had to be used during this lifting procedure; for Strehlow, with his bloated and swollen body, could not bear to be pressed vigorously. Once he had safely reached the top, he sat down on an upholstered chair which had been secured firmly by means of twisted strands of wire to the floor of the buggy, immediately behind the front seat. Mrs Strehlow now climbed up and sat down on the skewed rear seat, close to her husband. Heinrich moved over into the front seat and took his place next to the dark driver Hesekiel, who was already clutching the reins firmly in his hands. The four horses were hitched once more to the buggy, and the vehicle was driven a couple of chains away to the two gums that carried the bell in front of the church building. It was now possible for the van to be pulled by willing helpers to the front fence gate so that all cases and swags, also the meat and vegetable supplies, could be loaded up on it.
While the buggy was standing in front of the church, the stockmen once more grasped the winkers and reins of the horses firmly. The crowd surged forward to say goodbye to their departing ingkata, who had not yet spoken any words to them. ‘Sing a farewell hymn for Mr and Mrs Strehlow,’ urged Heinrich. At this request a voice in the crowd struck up the hymn Karerai, wolambarinjai, which was the Aranda translation of the grand Lutheran chorale Wachet auf, ruft uns die Stimme:
‘Wake, awake!’, proclaim with power
The watchmen’s voices from the tower,
‘Awake, Jerusalem, arise!’
Midnight’s solemn hour has sounded;
The criers call with joy unbounded,
‘Where are you waiting, virgins wise?
The Bridegroom draweth nigh,
Lift up your lamps on high,
Hallelujah!
Go forth to greet,
Prepare to meet
The Bridegroom at the wedding feast!’
As soon as the first familiar words had been struck up, the whole congregation joined in with that deep fervour that had always characterised their singing of this hymn at the services. It had been one of Strehlow’s favourites; and the congregation had sung it scores of times before on quiet Sunday evenings at the conclusion of the supper devotions. The sick man sat and listened in silence. Tears were running down from his red and pain-worn, tired eyes. Most of his people, too, had begun to sob long before the end of the third verse had been reached. For the hymn which celebrated the going out of the ten virgins of Christ’s parable at midnight to meet the Bridegroom had suddenly come to seem like a prophecy of doom – their ingkata, too, was leaving on his last journey: he was setting out, not to recover his health, but to meet the Master in Whom he had believed so strongly all his life. Suddenly Death seemed to have revealed his dark presence; and many of the singers sensed that Death would accompany their ingkata as he left Hermannsburg for ever. There was a last fervent surge forward as the older men and women came to touch with their hands Strehlow’s legs and feet in token of their deep affection; for he did not have the strength to shake more than a few hands. ‘May God bless you all, my friends,’ he said in a strangely toneless, tear-choked voice. And then the people slowly fell back, the stockmen released their hold on the winkers and reins of the horses, and the proud, fresh, wild-eyed animals leaped forward and moved off briskly. The buggy rapidly sped eastward over the plain and came into unobscured view once more as the track ascended the eastern sandhills. Within minutes it had moved past a tall ironwood tree into a stand of mulga, and then a cloud of dust showed that it had disappeared over the crest of the first eastern sandridge. The population turned sadly to their camp, feeling an incredible sense of loss and bereavement: the man who had been the great rockplate on which their community had been founded securely for a whole generation had left them forever.
Strehlow had departed without leaving behind a fitting and acceptable successor. The dark population that walked back to the camp had no feeling of confidence in Mattner who, being a member of the Finke River Mission Board, had nominally been left in charge of the station after Strehlow’s departure. Nor did the Aranda folk have any high regard for the leadership qualities of either Heinrich or Paschke as supervisors of station work. During the months of July and August, when Mattner, Hei
nrich, and Paschke were supervising the mustering and yard-building work carried out on the western run, they had been unable to maintain any appreciable measure of control over their dark employees. Their disputes had come time and again before the ailing Strehlow, whom all parties had continued to wear out with their constant complaints and countercomplaints. Mattner’s presence had not succeeded in establishing decent working relationships out in the stock camps; for the dark stockmen privately jeered at Mattner and Heinrich for being white cowards. Mattner had been sent up four years before to inspect Hermannsburg on behalf of the Mission Board; and he had on that occasion been introduced to the dark population by Heinrich as one of the ‘big bosses from down south’. However, some weeks after Mattner’s arrival a large party of Kukatja tribesmen had arrived from the west in order to take back with them one of their young women who had run away from Munyeroo, Billy McNamara’s station, situated in the ranges west of Hermannsburg. This woman, whose name was Kekimana, had been given – illegally and in the face of tribal opposition – by Billy McNamara to one of his trusted dark stockmen called Fred. Fred was a man from one of the northern tribes, whom McNamara had brought down with him some years earlier. The Kukatja men, after much preliminary wild shouting, had gathered up their spears in order to kill Fred. Mattner and Heinrich had gone out towards the Kukatja camp to see what the commotion and shouting were about. When they were still a few chains away, Fred had come running towards them, pursued by the angry Kukatja men. Spears had begun to fly in the direction of both Fred and the two white men. Mattner and Heinrich, knowing that they had no authoritative standing in the aboriginal community, had quickly turned their backs on the attackers and run back towards the Aranda camp area as fast as their untrained legs would carry them, with Fred now racing for his life in front of them so as to place the two white men between him and the spears of the pursuers. Although Mattner was a rather portly farmer and Heinrich a semi-invalid, half-incapacitated by a rupture, both men had shown a surprising turn of speed in the face of danger, and neither of them had paused for breath till both had reached the safety of Heinrich’s house. Here they had locked themselves in while Fred had raced on to the verandah of Strehlow’s house – the only place of refuge open to him where he could be safe from the spears of his angry pursuers, who came to a sudden halt several chains away. In response to his frenzied knocks, Strehlow had come out and taken the shivering, shaking Fred into his protection. He had angrily turned the Kukatja men back to their camp; and although his hands had carried no weapons, he had been promptly obeyed. All the Aranda men would have come out on his side if there had been any hesitation by the Kukatja party to obey the ingkata. But there had been none. For as the man who had nursed back to health Wapiti, the honoured ceremonial chief of the great Kukatja centre of Merini, Strehlow had since that time enjoyed a position of honour among the Kukatja as well. In the Aranda camp men, women, and children had subsequently guffawed for weeks about Mattner’s and Heinrich’s hurried flight; and the whole ludicrous scene of two white ‘bosses’ fleeing from the spears of desert nomads had often been re-enacted by them to the accompaniment of screams of laughter. Hence it was not surprising that the elevation of Mattner to take Strehlow’s place gave no sense of security to the Hermannsburg population, which suddenly felt itself left unprotected and leaderless.
T G H Strehlow Page 3