by Tim Flannery
3 May—It has been a very eventful day. We left camp soon after 8 a.m., anxious to hurry on as much as possible to reach water early. We continued our right course (west) for an hour and seeing no signs of water (viz. emus and native dog tracks or flocks of birds), we changed our course north. We went on till 2 p.m. and were despairing of getting water, when we saw not three miles straight ahead of us a blacks’ fire (or smoke rather) and we made for it in desperation, knowing there would be water where niggers were.
We reached the fire and were going round it, when Favenc made a gallop and Crawford followed from behind with us, and we knew they must have seen blacks. Presently we got up to them and saw Favenc holding a man with one hand and in the other pointing his revolver at him, and Crawford holding a gin. They were a peculiar sight. The blacks had never seen a white man before, we soon found out by their showing no fear when Favenc pulled out his revolver.
When Mr Favenc came upon them, they climbed a small tree, and when he made signs for them to come down the nigger threw his gin down, thinking that might satisfy him, and it was some time before the black was induced to come down himself. Favenc tied him with a strap to prevent his running away before he had led us to water.
We were not going to do them any harm, so they remained captives till we had shown them, by giving them some drops of water to drink (which we had kept specially for the purpose) and signing to them what we wanted them to do. They then went on with a great many gesticulations which we suppose meant fright, and after taking us about three miles we came upon the main blacks’ camp and a waterhole. There were seven men and nine gins and some piccaninnies. The gins bolted at our appearance and we saw nothing of them. One poor little baby was left by the mother in her fright and it was toddling about crying.
The blacks wear no clothing of any sort, and one of them had a carpet snake which he had killed tied round his waist ready to cook for his supper. The poor things were quiet and frightened, but not having been molested by white men they did not attempt to do us any harm. When we went down to the waterhole they all took up their boomerangs, so Harry remained on the bank with his revolver ready to fire at the first throw. They soon put them down however and came and stood about twenty yards away while we had dinner. We gave them some damper and they seemed pleased.
We left their camp at 4 p.m. and came on till eight through a dreadful scrub. How we got through in the dark without accident I don’t know. We soon had the fire lit and the billy boiling for our meagre supper. We saw spears and things lying on the ground in the blacks’ camp, but we took nothing away as harm has been done so often by white men stealing the blacks’ only means of gaining their food. The man we caught first had a white plaited string made of bark round his head, and he threw it down when Favenc let him loose, as a sign of submission and peace. All the men amongst these blacks are circumcised.
CARL LUMHOLTZ
I Was Perfectly Shocked, 1883
A Norwegian student of theology, Carl Lumholtz travelled to the rainforests of north Queensland in 1880 in search of zoological and ethnographic specimens. His search was spectacularly successful, for he collected most of the larger mammals of the Atherton forests, many of which were then new to science, during his sojourns with the Aborigines. His account of the discovery, then loss, in March 1883 of the tree kangaroo which was eventually to bear his name, is a classic of Australian biological exploration.
The blacks had for several days been talking about a dance to be held in a remote valley.
A tribe had learned a new song and new dances, and was going to make an exhibition of what it had learned to a number of people. The Herbert Vale tribe had received a special invitation to be present, and the natives assured me that there would be great fun. My action was determined by the fact that Nilgora, who owned the splendid dog Balnglan…would be there. But I had my misgivings on account of the horses, for as we were in the midst of the rainy season I ran some risk of not being able to bring them back again.
Early one morning we set out, a large party of men, women and children. A short time before reaching our destination we were met by a number of natives, for they expected us that night. Some of the strangers were old acquaintances of my people, but this fact was not noticeable, for they exchanged no greetings. In fact an Australian native does not know what it is to extend a greeting. When two acquaintances meet, they act like total strangers, and do not even say ‘good-day’ to each other. Nor do they shake hands. After they have been together for some time they show the first signs of joy over their meeting.
If a black man desires to show how glad he is to meet his old friend, he sits down, takes his friend’s head into his lap, and begins to look for the countless little animals that annoy the natives, and which they are fond of eating. When the one has had his head cleaned in this manner, the two change places, and the other is treated with the same politeness. I accustomed myself to many of the habits of the natives during my sojourn among these children of nature, but this revolting operation, I confess, was a great annoyance to me.
A more emphatic sign of joy at meeting again is given by uttering shrieks of lamentation on account of the arrival of strangers to the camp. I was frequently surprised at hearing shrieks of this sort in the evenings, and found upon examination that they were uttered in honour of some stranger who had arrived in the course of the day. This peculiar salutation did not last more than a few moments, but was repeated several evenings in succession during the visit of the stranger. The highest token of joy on such occasions is shown by cutting their bodies in some way or other.
Later in the afternoon we arrived in the valley where the dance was to be. Those who were to take part in the dance had already been encamped there for several days. We had also taken time by the forelock, for the festivities were not to begin before the next evening. Several new arrivals were expected in the course of the next day, among them Nilgora. A proposition was made that two men should be sent to meet him on the mountain and request him to look for boongary on the way down, and early the next morning before sunrise they actually started, after being supplied with a little tobacco. †
My men and I had encamped about 200 paces from the others. I made a larger and more substantial hut than was my usual custom. It did not reach higher than my chest, but the roof was made very thick and tight on account of the rain. At first the blacks were very timid, but gradually the bravest ones among them began to approach my hut. As was their wont, they examined everything with the greatest curiosity. Yokkai walked about in the most conscious manner possible, and assumed an air of knowing everything. He brought water from the brook, put the tin pail over the fire, and accompanied by one or two admirers went down to the brook to wash the salt out of some salt beef which was to be boiled. The matches, the great amount of tobacco, my pocket handkerchief, my clothes, and my boots—all made the deepest impression upon the savages. After unpacking, a newspaper was left on the ground. One of the natives sat down and put it over his shoulders like a shawl, examining himself to see how he looked in it; but when he noticed the flimsy nature of the material, he carelessly let it slip down upon the ground again.
My white woollen blanket provoked their greatest admiration, which they expressed by smacking with their tongues, and exclaiming in ecstasy: Tamin, tamin!—that is, Fat, fat! The idea of ‘excellent’ is expressed by the natives, as in certain European languages, by the word ‘fat’.
It is an interesting fact that, much as the civilised Australian blacks like fat, they can never be persuaded to eat pork. ‘There is too much devil in it,’ they say.
At noon I heard continuous lamentations, but as I supposed they were for someone deceased, I paid but little attention to them at first. Lamentations for the dead, however, usually take place in the evening, and so I decided to go and find out what was going on. Outside of a hut I found an old woman in the most miserable plight. She had torn and scratched her body with a sharp stone, so that the blood was running and became blended wi
th the tears which were flowing down her cheeks as she sobbed aloud.
Uncertain as to the cause of all this lamentation, I entered the hut, and there I found a strong young woman, lying half on her back and half on her side, playing with a child. I approached her. She turned her handsome face toward me, and showed me a pair of roguish eyes and teeth as white as snow, a very pleasing but utterly incomprehensible contrast to the pitiful scene outside. I learned that the young woman inside was a daughter of the old woman, who had not seen her child for a long time, and now gave expression to her joy in this singular manner. I expressed my surprise that the old woman’s face did not beam with joy, but this seemed to be strange language to them. These children of nature must howl when they desire to express deep feeling.
Night was approaching, the sun was already setting behind the horizon, the air was very hot and oppressive, and it was evident that there would soon be a thunderstorm. The blacks sat at home in their huts or sauntered lazily from place to place, waiting until it became cool enough for the dance to begin. I had just eaten my dinner and was enjoying the shade in my hut, while my men were lying round about smoking their pipes, when there was suddenly heard a shout from the camp of the natives. My companions rose, turned their faces towards the mountain, and shouted, Boongary, boongary! A few black men were seen coming out of the woods and down the green slope as fast as their legs could carry them. One of them had a large dark animal on his back.
Was it truly a boongary? I soon caught sight of the dog Balnglan running in advance and followed by Nilgora, a tall powerful man.
The dark animal was thrown on the ground at my feet, but none of the blacks spoke a word. They simply stood waiting for presents from me.
At last, then, I had a boongary, which I had been seeking so long. It is not necessary to describe my joy at having this animal, hitherto a stranger to science, at my feet. Of course I did not forget the natives who had brought me so great a prize. To Nilgora I gave a shirt, to the man who had carried the boongary, a handkerchief, and to all, food. Nor did I omit to distribute tobacco.
I at once began to skin the animal, but first I had to loosen the withies with which its legs had been tied for the men to carry it. The ends of these withies or bands rested against the man’s forehead, while the animal hung down his back, so that, as is customary among the Australians, the whole weight rested on his head.
I at once saw that it was a tree kangaroo (Dendrolagus). It was very large, but still I had expected to find a larger animal, for according to the statements of the natives a full-grown specimen was larger than a wallaby—that is to say, about the size of a sheep. This one proved to be a young male.
The tree kangaroo is without comparison a better proportioned animal than the common kangaroo. The fore-feet, which are nearly as perfectly developed as the hind-feet, have large crooked claws, while the hind-feet are somewhat like those of a kangaroo, though not so powerful. The sole of the foot is somewhat broader and more elastic, on account of a thick layer of fat under the skin. In soft ground its footprints are very similar to those of a child. The ears are small and erect, and the tail is as long as the body of the animal. The skin is tough and the fur is very strong and beautiful. The colour of the male is a yellowish-brown, that of the female and of the young is greyish, but the head, the feet and the underside of the tail are black. Thus it will be seen that this tree kangaroo is more variegated in colour than those species which are found in New Guinea.
Upon the whole, the boongary is the most beautiful mammal I have seen in Australia. It is a marsupial and goes out only in the night. During the day it sleeps in the trees and feeds on the leaves. It is able to jump down from a great height and can run fast on the ground. So far as my observation goes, it seems to live exclusively in one very lofty kind of tree, which is very common on the coast mountains, but of which I do not know the name. During rainy weather the boongary prefers the young low trees, and always frequents the most rocky and inaccessible localities. It always stays near the summit of the mountains, and frequently far from water, and hence the natives assured me that it never went down to drink.
During the hot season it is much bothered with flies, and then, in accordance with statements made to me by the savages, it is discovered by the sound of the blow by which it kills the fly. In the night, they say, the boongary can be heard walking in the trees.
I had finished skinning the animal, and so I put a lot of arsenic on the skin and laid it away to dry in the roof of my hut, where I thought it would be safe, and placed the skin there in such a way that it was protected on all sides.
Meanwhile my men had gone down to witness the dance. Happy over my day’s success I too decided to go thither and amuse myself, but before I had prepared the skin with arsenic and could get away, darkness had already set in, and the dancing was postponed until the moon was up. The natives had in the meantime retired to their camps until the dance was to begin again.
The tribe that was to give the dance had its camp farthest away, while the other tribes, who were simply spectators, had made their camps near mine. There was lively conversation among the huts. All were seated round the camp fires and had nothing to do, the women with their children in their laps, and those who had pipes smoking tobacco. I went from one group to the other and chatted with them; they liked to talk with me, for they invariably expected me to give them tobacco. Occasions like this are valuable for obtaining information from the natives. Still, it is difficult to get any trustworthy facts, for they are great liars, not to mention their tendency to exaggerate greatly when they attempt to describe anything. Besides, they have no patience to be examined, and they do not like to be asked the same thing twice. It takes time to learn to understand whether they are telling the truth or not, and how to coax information out of them. The best way is to mention the thing you want to know in the most indifferent manner possible. The best information is secured by paying attention to their own conversations. If you ask them questions, they simply try to guess what answers you would like, and then give such responses as they think will please you. This is the reason why so many have been deceived by the savages, and this is the source of all the absurd stories about the Australian blacks.
Among the huts the camp fires were burning, and outside of the camp it was dark as pitch, so that the figures of the natives were drawn like silhouette pictures in fantastic groups against the dark background.
It amused me to make these visits, but my thoughts were chiefly occupied with the great event of the day. In the camp there were several dingoes and, although the boongary skin was carefully put away, I did not feel perfectly safe in regard to it. I therefore returned at once to look after my treasure; I stepped quickly into my hut, and thrust my hand in among the leaves to see whether the skin was safe; but imagine my dismay when I found that it was gone.
I was perfectly shocked. Who could have taken the skin? I at once called the blacks, among whom the news spread like wildfire, and after looking for a short time one of them came running with a torn skin, which he had found outside the camp. The whole head, a part of the tail and legs were eaten. It was my poor boongary skin that one of the dingoes had stolen and abused in this manner. I had no better place to put it, so I laid it back again in the same part of the roof, and then, sad and dejected in spirits, I sauntered down to the natives again.
Here everyone tried to convince me that it was not his dog that was the culprit. All the dogs were produced, and each owner kept striking his dog’s belly to show that it was empty, in his eagerness to prove its innocence. Finally a half-grown cur was produced. The owner laid it on its back, seized it by the belly once or twice, and exclaimed, Ammery, ammery!—that is, Hungry, hungry! But his abuse of the dog soon acted as an emetic, and presently a mass of skin-rags was strewed on the ground in front of it.
My first impulse was to gather them up, but they were chewed so fine that they were useless. As the skin had been thoroughly prepared with arsenic, it was of importance t
o me to save the life of the dog, otherwise I would never again be able to borrow another.
Besides, I had a rare opportunity of increasing the respect of the natives for me. I told them that the dog had eaten kola—that is, wrath—as they called poison, and as my men had gradually learned to look at it with great awe, it would elevate me in their eyes if I could save the life of the dog. I made haste to mix tobacco and water. This I poured into the dog, and thus caused it to vomit up the remainder of the poisoned skin. The life of the dog was saved, and all joined in the loudest praises of what I had done. They promised me the loan of Balnglan again, and thus I had hopes of securing another boongary; of course they added as a condition that I must give them a lot of tobacco.
† Boongary: Lumholtz’s tree kangaroo (Dendrolagus lumholtzi).
DAVID CARNEGIE
Sorry as I Was to Be Rude to a Lady, 1896
David Carnegie began his career as an explorer somewhat compulsorily. He was a miner, but his searches took him so far from the beaten track that getting home again became a matter of life and death. Later, his yen for exploring seems to have got the better of his wish to become rich from gold, and carried him on a truly remarkable exploration through the centre of Western Australia.
We meet him here in the Gibson Desert, desperately tracking Aborigines so that he can force them to reveal the whereabouts of their waterholes. In this episode Carnegie treats an elderly Aboriginal woman abominably. Did he ever consider how he would react if someone had treated his own mother so?
The next morning [8 September] we were up betimes and ready to start as soon as ever the tracks were visible; presently a smoke, their first hunting-smoke of the day, rose close to us. Despatching Charlie on Satan and Godfrey on foot, with instructions to catch a native if possible, I hastened along the tracks followed by the rest of the party. We reached their camp just in time to see the late inmates disappear into a thicket of mulga close by. Neither Charlie nor Godfrey was able to come up with the lighters of the fire unseen, and these, too, fled into the scrub, where chase was almost impossible. Their camp deserves description, as it was the first (excepting travelling camps) we had seen of the desert blackfellow.