by Tim Flannery
When Mudjon returned from his excursion out on the plain the bundle had been replaced in position in the tree and once more he made no reference to it, passing close by without a glance towards it. Anxious to hear his explanation I mentioned our discovery to him. His eyes remained on the ground, indicating that he was fully aware of its presence and that he was a little afraid of it.
We did not inform him that we had taken it down and had some knowledge of the contents because, again, we did not wish to offend him. He offered no suggestion as to what the bundle might contain but in response to my question as to whether it might be ‘secret business’ he replied, ‘Might be,’ and did not wish to talk about the matter any further.
Ninety metres south of the well was a semicircle composed of five stones of the same type of greyish-white quartz we had seen at Walloogoobal. They were firmly set into the ground and a distance of six metres separated the two ends of the arrangement. These, too, were the work of Warrida of the Dreamtime. He had found water at Wangabaddi, he had camped there and had left the mysterious stones to indicate he had passed that way.
A little further to the south was a small cleared area with several artefacts on the periphery. The place, said Mudjon, was a little dancing ground where formerly his people, when camped at the well, would dance and follow a path that wound past the stones of Warrida towards the waterhole.
On leaving Wangabaddi we continued in an easterly direction towards the sandhills to the north, and after travelling twenty-four kilometres a remarkable little hill capped with yellow-pink sandstone was visible a little to the south-east. Although it was off the ‘main road’ it had often been visited by the Mandildjara in the past, for near its base was a rockhole, and the waterhole and hill were together known as Birri Birri.
Here, at Mudjon’s request, we halted in a clearing for he wished to fire some high spinifex and scrub which grew in a shallow depression running across the open space. The tinder-dry grass burned with an intense heat, igniting the green scrub and sending enormous columns of black smoke skywards.
From the top of the vehicle we looked towards Ngarinarri, about thirty kilometres distant, but the sky remained clear. Mudjon did not appear at all surprised for, he said, Warri and Yatungka had not replied to our earlier signals and he did not expect an answer on that occasion. They did not send up smoke because they could not and he again indicated that they were dead.
We pushed on towards Ngarinarri and after going six and a half kilometres further to the east, we rounded the eastern extremity of the sandhills and turned to the north-east. There were sandhills still to be crossed before we could reach the well but they were no longer an obstacle to our progress.
In the cabin of the vehicle it was hot and noisy as we ground along for another nine and a half kilometres. There was little talk, for all us had been affected by Mudjon’s profound depression: we wanted desperately to get to Ngarinarri but feared what we might discover there. It was late afternoon and we knew we could not reach the well that day and we were pleased, for it would be better to approach it in the morning, rather than stumble onto it in the darkness.
The vehicle heaved itself up a low sand ridge and as we reached the crest Mudjon, who had been sitting quietly beside me, apparently uninterested in the world about him, suddenly shouted and pointed excitedly to the north. There was smoke out there, he said, he was sure he had seen smoke. We peered in the direction he indicated and there it was, a faint wisp of smoke spiralling into the blue-grey sky of that late hour of the day.
There were great cries of joy from all members of the party. There was somebody alive out there, somebody had survived the long walk to Ngarinarri. Was it Warri or was it Yatungka or were, by some miracle, both of them alive? Mudjon was overjoyed that at least one of his people would be found alive after having convinced himself that his old friends had perished.
I took a fix on the smoke and found it bore two degrees from north, and on looking at the map I found that the spot that Mudjon had indicated previously as being Ngarinarri’s position, was within half a degree of that bearing.
We wanted to press on with all speed to reach the well but it was an impossible task and darkness forced us to make camp in a valley between sand ridges where there was a little wood for our fire. On top of the ridge to the north grew a large and rather gnarled tree and Mudjon, who was now in a euphoric mood, said that it had been growing for a very long time. He had seen it many times before on his journeys between Ngarinarri and Wangabaddi and the old people had told him it had always been there, that it had been planted there in the Dreamtime.
As we sat round our camp fire that night, Mudjon spoke animatedly of the times that he had roamed the desert with Warri, where they had hunted and what they had hunted. He was obviously tremendously relieved by the sighting a few hours previously and he talked about his people far into the night.
We were all excited at the prospect of finding the Aboriginal couple alive, but at the same time I had a strange feeling of uneasiness, perhaps it was sadness. I could not help feeling that that night would be the last that Warri and Yatungka (presuming both were alive) would spend alone in the desert together if they chose to return to Wiluna with us. The long years they had spent together without the company of other human beings, wandering their ancestral land, might come to an end within a few short hours. We were about to intrude into the lives of the last nomadic people in the Western Gibson Desert, and in doing so it was possible that we might be responsible for bringing to an end a way of life that had gone on for several thousand years.
Ever since Wati Kudjarra had moved through the land creating the features on the landscape, there had been Aboriginal people in the desert. If tomorrow Warri and Yatungka decided to leave with us then, for the first time since the Dreamtime, there would not be a single Aborigine in the country of the Mandildjara or, indeed, in the whole of the Western Gibson Desert. That was a sobering thought, one that weighed heavily on me and one that greatly disturbed my sleep that night.
I wondered why our smoke signals, which certainly had been seen, had not been answered earlier. Was it possible that Warri and Yatungka did not wish to leave their country and had no desire to make contact with us? Our progress across the land could be gauged by our signals and it would be apparent to them that we were moving along the ‘main road’ between waterholes, and that somebody was leading the party towards them, and who else but Mudjon would be guiding such a party? At his last meeting with Warri, Mudjon had told his friend that one day he would return to lead them out of the desert, that with advancing age they could not remain alone in their country. Was it possible that Warri and Yatungka feared Mudjon’s return and refrained from sending up smoke to indicate their position? But surely they must be in dire straits if the country we had passed through in the preceding two weeks was any indication, there being little game of any kind, and not one of the waterholes we had encountered in well over 100 kilometres of travel had contained a drop of water. Mudjon believed they must be in very poor physical condition and would be prepared to leave the desert, at least until the rains came and the long drought ended.
Perhaps Warri and Yatungka were determined to spend their last days in their own country rather than be removed to a strange and, to them, frightening way of life. Was there a change of heart at the last minute and a decision made to acknowledge our last signal when they realised we were heading towards Ngarinarri and would find them even if they did not send smoke?
We had no wish to disturb them or to interfere with their way of life and should they desire to remain in their homeland and were in reasonable physical condition we would leave provisions with them and on our return to Wiluna would arrange for contact to be made at intervals to offer any assistance they required. However if they were weak and ill and wished to remain, could we just drive away and leave them, knowing they would surely die without adequate food and without medical attention? We sincerely hoped that such a situation would not present itself.
On the other hand, if they chose to go out with us, we would be haunted by the knowledge that we had removed the last of the nomads from the desert.
Those were the thoughts that weighed so heavily on me that night near Ngarinarri.
We rose early, for we were eager to make contact with the man or woman who had signalled us. Travelling almost due north on the bearing we had obtained the previous evening, we had gone eight kilometres when Mudjon called a halt and proceeded to fire spinifex once more. Almost immediately an answering smoke rose on a bearing of thirty-five degrees and we changed direction towards it. Two and a half kilometres on, our new course brought us to the crest of a long sand ridge which ran roughly east-west to the horizon and there, on the wide open plain between the sandhills, were flames and smoke rising from a long trail of burning spinifex.
From our observation point there was a distance of one kilometre to a sand ridge to the north, the intervening flat country being covered with spinifex and occasional low scrub. Almost due north of our position and about four hundred metres distant, another sand ridge, which had its origins away to the east, terminated on the plain. With binoculars I searched the plain for a human being amongst the burning spinifex, but without success. It was obvious that somebody was moving out there, for at intervals there would be a sudden burst of flame as a new patch of grass was ignited. A long trail of smoke rose slowly in the still air of the morning and a blackened strip of burnt country denoted the burner’s progress across the plain.
Then I saw the figure, moving slowly eastwards, unaware of our presence on the sand ridge to the south. We were disturbed that only one person was visible. Was it Warri or was it Yatungka? A highly excited Mudjon said that, without doubt, it was Warri. We searched the plain and the sandhills beyond with our glasses but there was no sign of Yatungka. Had she perished, leaving Warri alone in the desert? Mudjon did not know but he intended to answer that question as soon as possible. He could contain himself no longer and plunging down the northern face of the sand ridge he strode briskly out to intercept Warri, who still continued moving eastwards, intently firing the country, still not aware that he was being observed.
As Mudjon walked rapidly through the spinifex he, too, fired the grass to attract attention, but Warri continued on to the east. It was not until Mudjon was within one hundred metres that Warri caught sight of him. During the time that Mudjon had been seeking to intercept him, Warri had moved off the flat country onto the southern side of the sand ridge which terminated on the plain, and it was from that elevated position that he first became aware of Mudjon’s presence.
Through my glasses I saw Warri stop abruptly to stare at Mudjon, then move down off the sand ridge towards him. The two old friends met, but there was no demonstration of joy, no handshakes, no clasping of one to the other. Instead they faced each other from a distance of six metres for at least half a minute, each apparently making a quick appraisal of the other. Presumably some words were then spoken, the gap between the two men closed, and immediately they began to walk back towards our position.
There was still no sign of Yatungka, and Warri did not appear to be looking for her as he followed Mudjon through the clumps of spinifex. It was indeed strange that the two nomads had not been walking together that morning and I feared the worst.
On reaching the base of the sand ridge on which we stood, Warri halted whilst Mudjon continued up the incline to our position. Where was Yatungka? Was she still alive? we hurriedly asked. To our immense relief Mudjon explained that she was indeed alive and was, at that moment, gathering food out to the east where the quandong trees grew and would return to Ngarinarri later in the day.†
† Tragically, both Warri and Yatungka died shortly after leaving the desert.
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