When the Storm Breaks

by Bonnie Leon

  “Taboo?”

  “Yais. It’s not for women, but I seen it before. Me mum took me once. Sometimes women are allowed to go to ceremonies. But this one . . . well, this one ’as special power.”

  Rebecca wasn’t sure she wanted to see an aborigine rite, especially one with special power. The thought sent shivers through her. She glanced toward the house, but it had disappeared behind the rise. “Do you think it wise to wander so far from home in the pitch black?”

  “It’s not so dark.” Callie smiled and Rebecca could see the white of her teeth reflect the light of a rising moon. “Ya afraid, mum?”

  “Should I be?” Rebecca peered at Callie, wishing she could see her better. “It seems that something done in the darkness is meant to be hidden. Perhaps we shouldn’t pry into the men’s customs.”

  “It’s all roight, mum. No need ta worry.”

  “Is it far?”

  “No. Not far.” Callie placed Rebecca’s hand on her shoulder and moved on, silently passing through the night.

  Even with help from Callie, Rebecca wasn’t as sure-footed as her friend and had difficulty keeping up. More than once she tripped over something hidden in the darkness. She worried about scorpions and snakes and kept glancing at the uneven ground, but it was too dark to spot anything.

  Just when Rebecca had decided to put an end to the evening’s excursion, she heard a distant throaty sound of a didgeridoo. She stopped. “What’s that? Is that where we’re going?”

  “Yais. The corroboree has begun.”

  Clicking sounds and chants joined the mystical resonance of the didgeridoo. Rebecca’s stomach tightened, and her anxiety grew. “Callie, are you sure this is all right?”

  “Yais. I want ya ta see. It’ll hurt no one if we watch. The blokes won’t even know we’re ’ere.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We’ll hide.” Callie’s answer made Rebecca more apprehensive. “If we’ve nothing to fear, why must we hide? What is it that we’re going to see?”

  “It’s a celebration of our mother the earth and an initiation.” Callie slowed her steps. “Lydies not s’posed ta see, but I seen. Like I said, when I was a young gal. I was scared, but me mum explained everything.” She smiled. “Come on.” She dropped to her hands and knees and crawled toward a strange light penetrating the tall grasses.

  Rebecca remained where she was. I ought to return to the house. This can’t be good.

  Curiosity won out. Rebecca knelt and on hands and knees followed Callie. Her long skirt made crawling difficult. It kept bunching up and seemed to catch on every branch or bush.

  Dropping to her stomach, Callie moved through the dry grass and stopped at the edge of a large open space.

  Heart pounding hard beneath her ribs, Rebecca did just as Callie had. She pressed against the earth. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I don’t care what she says; we could be in real danger. When she stopped, Rebecca peered into the clearing lit by a large bonfire. Men danced around the blaze. They were naked, dressed only in paint.

  Rebecca knew she shouldn’t be gazing at the men, but she couldn’t take her eyes off of them. She’d never seen anything like it. They’d painted designs on their bodies. Some had stripes running up or across their legs, others had painted squiggling lines on their chests, and there were a variety of other designs that looked like leaves or waving grasses or circles.

  “We shouldn’t be watching,” Rebecca whispered, closing her eyes.

  “Ya never seen a man?” Callie teased.

  “Of course I have. I’m married. But Daniel’s my husband,” Rebecca whispered.

  Callie grinned. “Yer funny, mum. Ya look like ya seen a ghost.”

  “Well, it’s not proper.” Rebecca turned her gaze back to the men. “You didn’t tell me they were going to be unclothed.”

  “It’s not their naked bodies what matter, mum, but the rest.”

  “Of course,” Rebecca said, making an effort to convince herself this part of Callie’s culture was innocent. And if she wanted to understand aborigines, she supposed this was a good place to begin.

  Four men sat side by side just outside the ring of the dancers. Two puffed into didgeridoos, and two beat sticks in rhythm. Rebecca studied the dancers’ feet as they moved to the song’s pulse. Sometimes they kicked up dirt and then shuffled backwards. They chanted and stomped the ground.

  The scene felt supernatural, and Rebecca knew she was witnessing something the Christian world considered wicked. And yet she couldn’t look away. Something about the movement and the rhythm of the music held her, tantalized her. Shadows of impassioned dancers played on the grasses beyond the fire, and Rebecca felt a chill of fear as well as wonderment.

  “They celebrate the earth that gives so much,” Callie whispered. “They sing of life; of the rivers, sky, and moon; and of the earth that gave them up and will one day take them back again.”

  “It’s fascinating,” Rebecca said, beginning to comprehend that this was a celebration and realizing she had nothing to fear.

  When one of the elder men removed a primitive knife from a sheath worn around his waist, the muscles in Rebecca’s stomach tightened. She held her breath and then glanced over her shoulder into the darkness, suddenly afraid they were being watched.

  The man lifted the knife above his head and held it as if offering it to the sky. Her dread building, Rebecca stared. Suddenly he brought down the knife and sliced into his arm. She could feel a scream rise up but pressed a hand over her mouth to smother it.

  Blood trickled down the aborigine’s arm and onto his leg. Rather than acting disturbed, the man became more animated. Another one of the older dancers brought out his knife and sliced into his arm . . . and then another man cut himself . . . and another.

  The fervor of the music increased, and the dancing became frenetic. The men’s song grew louder and more pronounced. They cut themselves again and smeared the blood over their bodies and then on one another. Some drew designs with the blood. The younger men moved close to the ones who had taken part in the bloodletting. They danced in such a way that the blood dripped onto their bodies.

  Rebecca was sickened. “Why are they doing that?”

  “The young blokes get power from the blood of the older ones, and they are bound to each other always. It’s somethin’, eh?”

  Rebecca was horrified but said nothing. Obviously this was of great importance to Callie. She watched, afraid of what might come next.

  A white-haired man moved into the darkness and returned with a boy. Several other lads followed but remained behind when the first was led into the circle.

  “What are they going to do?” Rebecca asked, unable to keep her voice from trembling.

  “It is initiation.”

  The boy seemed animated, but Rebecca could also see fear in his eyes. He danced with the men and then was taken aside. The old man took his knife from its sheath, held it up to the dark sky, and then turned to the boy. Rebecca closed her eyes. She couldn’t bear it, no matter what it was. She heard a groan and a muffled cry, and then she opened her eyes. There was blood, lots of it, on the youngster’s thighs and on the ground in front of him. And yet he joined the men in the dance.

  “I can’t stay,” Rebecca whispered, backing away and then turning and crawling toward the safety of darkness.

  She didn’t stop until she was certain she’d put ample distance between herself and the aborigine men and their ritual. The music was quieter, the sounds muffled, and the blazing fire was out of sight, but Rebecca couldn’t rid herself of the frightening images.

  She sat, pulling bent knees in close to her chest. Why would Callie share something so ghastly with her? She rested her forehead against her knees.

  Callie joined her. “Mum, ya all roight?”

  “Yes,” Rebecca said, blowing out a quick breath. “But it was awful. Why did you bring me here? I’ve never seen anything like that. What is it?”

  “I told ya, it’s a corroboree. A
time for the men to join each other and celebrate life and the wonder of the earth.”

  “And the boys?”

  “It is their passage from bein’ a lad ta bein’ a man. It’s a good thing.”

  “Circumcision. Is that what it was?”

  Callie shrugged. “I don’t know what ya call it.”

  “And how can you say it’s a good thing? It was horrid. They were cutting themselves, and then they cut that boy.”

  Callie sat back. “Why is it horrid?”

  “It’s so bloody and . . . outlandish.”

  “Ya ’ave yer rituals, mum.”

  “Yes, but not like these. Why would you show me such a thing?”

  “Ya take me ta yer church so I can see yer ways. And I go. This is me people’s way.”

  Rebecca could see the comparison, but church was quiet and reverent. “This is very different, Callie. What does it all mean?”

  “The men grow more powerful. They become stronger, wiser. The songs tell of growing up and becoming wise, of finding water and trees for shade. They talk ’bout the beauty in the stars and the moon. The men sing ’bout growin’, lovin’, and how the spirits of bybies come inta their women. They ask for help from the earth ta feed their families. And then they speak of the day they return ta the land they come from.”

  Rebecca started to grasp the importance. “But the blood, why did they do that?”

  “The blood of a man has power, mum. I thought ya’d understand. I been readin’ the Bible ya gave me. It talks ’bout blood and that it saves men, roight?”

  “Yes, but . . . it wasn’t like this, with so many men cutting themselves and bleeding on each other.” She shuddered at the memory.

  “So you say it’s better that a man has no choice and is hanged from a cross?” Callie’s tone challenged.

  “He wasn’t just a man. He was the Messiah, the Son of God. And he chose to die.”

  Callie smiled. “And they choose to share their spirit with each other—to build up courage and strength. That is wrong?”

  “No. Of course not. It’s just that . . .”

  Callie stood and started toward the house. “Sorry I brought ya, mum. Thought ya would understand.”

  Annoyed with herself and her inability to remain composed under the circumstances, Rebecca pushed up from the ground and hurried to catch Callie. “Please don’t misunderstand. I’m glad I came. I just wasn’t prepared. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

  Callie kept walking.

  “Can you tell me more about the . . . corroboree. Is that how you say it?”

  “Yais. This corroboree is a special one. Women are not allowed.” Callie slowed her pace. “Sometimes we sing with the men, but we must turn away from the magic. And sometimes the women dance and sing after the corroboree, and then we share the power.”

  “It’s very interesting,” Rebecca said, still struggling to grasp the implications of it all.

  To Callie this was church. She’d always seemed composed and tranquil. Rebecca wondered how it was possible that pagan beliefs could contribute to her serenity and strength. I suppose if one believes strongly enough, it would offer a measure of peace.

  “Sometimes the women ’ave secret rituals. I remember when I was a gal, me mum and me danced, and we sang special songs. It was a good time.” Callie closed her eyes and held her arms out at her sides. She moved over the landscape, looking very much like a ballerina, her movements fluid and delicate.

  “How lovely,” Rebecca said.

  “I can still ’ear the music, feel it in the earth ’round me.” She looked up at the sky. “’Ere is beauty; it’s all ’round, touching us, holding us.” Her voice low and melodic, Callie sang a song in her own language.

  Rebecca felt the presence of God, of his creation. She wished she understood the words. “What are you saying, Callie?”

  Callie looked at Rebecca. The newly risen moon glowed against her dark skin. “That I am now part of the dreamtime. That the land beneath me feet brings power, and the dark of night quiets me, and the light of the stars and moon soothe me.”

  “That’s beautiful,” Rebecca said, her comprehension growing. “You believe you’re part of the earth?”

  “Yais, mum. We’re bound ta each other. That’s why I can’t believe in yer God. Ya don’t know how it is ta love the earth, ta know it, ta understand it, and ta be part of it.”

  Rebecca felt sorrow seep inside of her. She’d never given much thought to the importance of God’s creation. She’d always admired it but had never seen it as a gift. God had given so much, and she’d barely given it a good look.

  “From now on I’ll try harder to think about what’s around me,” she said, hoping to convince Callie of her good intentions, but more so to give credence to her newfound convictions.

  “Good,” Callie said and hurried her steps toward home.

  When the lights of the house appeared, Rebecca felt disappointment. This horrible, powerful, amazing evening was over, and she was no longer afraid. Instead, she was captivated and energized by all she’d learned and all she’d yet to discover.

  The two women stopped in front of Callie’s cottage. Rebecca rested a hand on her friend’s arm. “Thank you for showing me. I understand better now.”

  Callie nodded and then walked up the steps of the cottage.

  After Callie disappeared inside, Rebecca remained for a few minutes more. She gazed at the dark sky with its muted stars gazing down. God placed them there, she thought. Her eyes moved to the moon. Bright and bold, it rested comfortably in the heavens as if watching over creation.

  The aborigines may have some perplexing and disquieting practices, she thought. But they know the earth, which is God’s creation.

  When Rebecca climbed into bed beside Daniel, wonderment still held her. She tried not to wake him. Pulling the sheets up under her chin, she stared at the dark ceiling.

  “Where’ve you been?” Daniel asked, his voice cutting into Rebecca’s tranquillity. He sounded angry.

  “Oh, you startled me.”

  “I searched for you, and you weren’t in the house. I was set to find you, but when I discovered Callie was gone too, I figured you were together. And then Lily said she saw you leave.”

  Rebecca wasn’t ready to share her experience. “Callie took me to see something,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant.

  “You should have told someone. What if the baby needed you?”

  “Oh, well, it was all a bit sudden. I didn’t think I’d be gone long.”

  “Where were you? It’s been dark a long while.”

  Rebecca knew Daniel should know. But Callie doesn’t want me to tell. She looked at her husband in the dim light. “I can’t say.”

  “You can’t say? I’m your husband.”

  “It’s just that, well, I’m certain Callie wants it kept a secret.”

  “She wouldn’t mind my knowing.”

  “All right, then.” Rebecca blew out a breath as if preparing for a race. There was so much to tell. “We went to . . . a celebration. She called it a corroboree.”

  Daniel sat up. “She took you to a corroboree?”

  “Yes, but it was all right. No one saw us.” She pushed up on one elbow.

  “Why would you do that? They’re not for whites.”

  “Callie wanted me to see it. So I could understand her better.” Rebecca sat up. “It was quite enlightening. Callie explained a lot of it to me. And in some ways it’s like our own faith. We draw close to God in prayer and song, seeking comfort and power. We praise him for all he’s done for us. That’s really what they were doing. I understand that the god or mother of the earth or whatever it is that they worship isn’t the God of the Bible, but they’re worshipping in their own way.”

  Now feeling animated about sharing, Rebecca brushed her hair back off her shoulder and continued, “I don’t understand it all, and I’m sure I never will, but it was important to Callie that I appreciate and respect her beliefs.�
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  “I thought you were praying for her salvation? What good will it do if she thinks you accept her pagan way of thinking?”

  “I’m sure she doesn’t believe that. She knows how important my faith is to me. And I am praying for her.”

  In the light from the moon, Rebecca could see that Daniel’s jaw was set. He was angry.

  “I don’t want you to ever do anything like that again. It’s dangerous. Your curiosity about their religion or your loyalty to Callie is not a good enough reason to take off in the middle of the night.”

  “She’s my friend. I’m sure I was in no danger.”

  Daniel lay down, pulled the blankets up over his shoulders, and rolled onto his side, his back to Rebecca. “I need you to obey me in this, Rebecca.” His voice was stern.

  Rebecca stared at his back. He didn’t understand. “Why are you so upset?”

  He turned over and faced her. “The aborigine ceremonies aren’t for us. And they’d be the first to say so.” His brows creased. “And definitely not for a woman.”

  “I must admit, it was a bit frightening at first, but after Callie explained everything, it wasn’t so shocking.”

  “We have to remember that the aborigines are still wild, and we don’t always know what to expect. At the very least, it’s not safe to go wandering ’round at night.” The irritation had gone out of his voice.

  “You’re right about that,” Rebecca said, rolling onto her back and staring through the half light at the ceiling. “But I’m still glad I went.”

  Daniel sat up and dropped his legs over the side of the bed. He moved to the window and gazed out. “I know you care about Callie, but you have to be careful, Rebecca.” He turned to look at her. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. And what about the children?” Daniel glanced out the window. “We don’t know what Marshal’s up to. We have to stay on our guard.”

  “It’s been a long while since we’ve heard anything.”

  Daniel turned and looked out on the moonlit yard. “Right, but I still owe him money. We can’t trust him.”

  Heavy silence swamped the room.

  “I’ve been thinking that you ought to go on holiday to Boston, spend some time with your aunt.”