Heartsick for Country

by Sally Morgan

  Finally, there were only two people still at the gathering, a spirit man and a spirit woman. While they sat there waiting to see what would happen, they showed three qualities and these three qualities we show every single day of our lives as human beings: impatience, inquisitiveness and emotion. They grew impatient for the wetj to come back, so they stood up and looked around, and when they stood up they were taller than the giant karri trees and towered over the landscape. Then they saw all these little eyes blinking at them and they wondered what they were: that was when inquisitiveness came into being. The spirit woman bent down and picked up a pair of eyes, and when she did so she began to tremble and shake with emotion. These were little children and this really affected her. The child she was looking at was so beautiful she couldn’t bear to put it down, so she tucked it into her hair. Then she wandered around collecting one little spirit child after another, putting them in her hair so she could carry them with her as she walked. Soon she had thousands of them. When she looked over her shoulder, though, she saw the spirit man following behind her eating the children he found. She continued to walk across the land collecting children from here and there and using her hair as a big net, but finally she stopped and began to think. ‘What have I done?’ she asked herself. ‘These little children have been placed in the landscape because they are the future generations. It is people who will win the right to be the Carers of Everything, I will have to put them back and I will have to tell the spirit man to stop eating them.’

  Meanwhile, the spirit man had hidden himself in the darkness to make it difficult for her to find him, but still she searched. As she travelled around, some of the children fell from her hair to the ground and turned into stones. The stones grew higher and higher around her, so it was hard for her to look. But she broke through the stone and kept on looking. By then however, some of the children had also turned themselves into birds, and were swooping and pecking around her as birds sometimes do. Because of that, she stepped away from them and on to one great big stone, but it toppled over; and when it hit the ground it splashed across the southern part of the land and formed the great outcrops of stone that you see all through the south. Nyungar people know these stones as bibi, which means breast. So Bibbelman is the land of many breasts. That is what it means; and the people in the south, all fourteen groups, belong to the Bibbelman Nation. (Image 5.2)

  Image 5.2: Noel appreciating a rare species of eucalypt, Salmon Gum, in a patch of remnant vegetation near Quairading, 2007 Courtesy David Deeley

  Later, the spirit woman was standing on some soft stone, which oozed into a great big wave, which these days is called Wave Rock. When she was standing on Wave Rock, it felt just like a trampoline under her feet. And as it sprang up, it lifted this great spirit woman into the sky. Higher and higher she went, until she knew she could never walk on the earth again. She would live in the sky now. This made her feel sad, because she still had some of the spirit children with her in her hair. She kept wondering what she had done. She felt upset and worried because she had taken them away from the earth when they were supposed to one day be the Carers of Everything. Suddenly, she turned into the Milky Way and all the little children with her turned into twinkling stars. Then as she looked at them she realised how she could send them back to earth: she was the Milky Way, she could send them back as shooting stars. That is why we always say bwaay coolarnngger when we see a shooting star, because a shooting star is a little child coming back to earth. So in this way the stars really do connect to the earth and to different parts of our countries.

  The other things that connect us in ways that people often don’t think of are the waterways, especially the underground waterways. Believe it or not, waterways connect my mother’s country in the north with my father’s country in the south. There is an aquifer that runs deep down under the ground through the Hamersley Ranges and Millstream. Millstream is a tropical oasis that forms part of a national park in the Pilbara. My mother has family connections to Millstream, and the water runs under there as that place sits on the rim of the aquifer. There is a spot, I have been told, where the water travels under the ground and comes out down near Dongara, at a place called Yardareno. That same water also comes out in Mardu country, at Lake Way, near Wiluna, where there is a big aquifer of warm, saline water. Some of the water also leeches back in through the eleven soaks in Yamatji country on Ningin Station, where there are eleven springs. So that water is connecting different peoples and different countries through the way it flows underground.

  My mum was taken away from her own country when she was twelve years old and that was a very sad thing for her. But in 1987, mum and I and some other members of our family went back to her country, to Millstream. Mum said she had to go out to this pool and when she described it I knew exactly where it was. A great serpent lived there and she knew the right protocol that she had to do when she returned there. She had to get the water in her hands, then put it in her mouth and spray it out. ‘I am a child from this country,’ she told us, that’s why I have to do that. She said that we had to see a rainbow and if we didn’t see a rainbow, then we all had to leave because we were not supposed to be there. Mum was in a wheelchair at the time and as she couldn’t get out of her wheelchair to get the water, I went over and got a handful for her then put it in her hands. ‘Sssh!’ she said, then the next minute she was talking out in a language I had never heard before in my life. Magically, a magnificent rainbow appeared in the sky and we were all so overcome we were shaking and there were tears in our eyes. Mum was very happy, so pleased to be back in her country after nearly seventy years. It gave us all a great feeling of belonging. I am sharing this with you because it shows how strong our connections to country are and how those connections aren’t broken when people are taken away.

  In the south, as in the north, people are connected to the waterways, most of them through having been born in catchment areas. Within each catchment they needed to know where the water came from because water is the giver of life and everything in that catchment is a part of you and you are a part of it

  Now, if I return to talking specifically about Nyungar country, then let’s look at the City of Perth. Nyungar people call that area Boorloo, that is our name for it. Boorloo, not Perth. Boorloo had a series of lakes and big mobs of kwulla, the mullet, would come up from the sea around March to lay their eggs in the shallows where they wouldn’t be disturbed. Also, the Swan River, we call it the Derbal Yerrigan. Now the word derbal, to my knowledge, means mixing; because it is where you have the sweet water and the salt water coming together, especially near the islands at Burswood. That is where you have got your tidal movement. Water flows under there too. It flows in from inland from Perth and it flows from out east of here, from the Avon District.

  The water connects places most people don’t know about. For example, if you go out to Wave Rock, which is about four hours’ drive inland from Perth, you will see that the water comes from there as well, making its way via little tributaries to join up with water in other places. There, you have got it going two ways at Yearlamining Lake, because it is in balance. It also happens to be the border of two different peoples’ country. They are the Wilmen and the Ballardong; and the water that comes into Ballardong country is the water that runs into the Avon. The water that flows the other way, into Wilmen, goes into the Goreng people’s country and then on to the Wadandi and the Bibbelman people’s land before it reaches the sea down near the town of Augusta. So the water that comes this way then runs into what they call the Avon River, but in the old way it is called gugleyar, which means laughing water. This is because when it runs over the rocks it celebrates; it wants you to hear it, so you hear it laughing. It also wants you to see it, that’s why you see all the little bubbles coming up; and by that time it is coming down past Bullong Pool. Bullong is like the crane, you know, the long-necked bird. That place is just between York and Northam. Sadly, some people interfered with the river. They tried to make it flow qu
icker by clearing it out and in the process buggered up Bullong Pool. A lot of sand flowed into it and the spirits were not happy. The water flows through York, Northam, Toodyay and then through the Hills to Walyunga National Park, which is a very important place. It turns into the Derbal Yerrigan where the rocks finish, so now it is on the coastal plain, where it runs deeper and narrower. Oh it’s just magic really, the way the waters flow and mix and connect up with each other.

  There was a time, long ago, when the old river used to run from Walyunga, slightly to the north-east. Then it would build up and flow back through there and into the coastal plain that way, coming out at Success Hill. But there is a Dreaming story that thousands of years ago, the djidi djidi, which is our name for the little willy wagtail, was responsible for puncturing the rock that allowed the river to go the other way; so now it runs down through Herne Hill, Henley Brook, on to Middle Swan, then to Guildford and from Guildford on to the city of Perth as we know it, and down to Fremantle. All that river along there has some really important sites for Nyungar people, and thankfully a lot of them are still known and understood. But what they are doing, with all this development, is putting that wonderful heritage under pressure. That is very worrying because those places should be protected and looked after for future generations. People don’t realise it, but there is some very strong country here around the City of Perth. Take a place like Kings Park for example. It’s an important place now, but it was important in the old times too. The spirit in that land is so strong that it has saved itself from development. That happens sometimes: the land protects itself.

  Now, if you approach the Derbal Yerrigan from the ocean side, then you need to understand that the sea used to be further out than it is now. The mainland used to take in Wadjemup, Rottnest Island as its known these days. Thousands of years ago, the river used to run out north of Wadjemup; and the old river system is there, but then the sea rose, and as it rose it created a whole new set of stories in relation to the coast and sea. The spirit woman, the one who collected the little children, the one who couldn’t walk on the earth again because she became the Milky Way, came back to earth as a powerful serpent. I am talking about the Waugal now. The first Waugal was a male, and he was here all the time, but then the spirit woman came down as a female Waugal to make sure that all the colours were right. She was very powerful and she lived in the sea. Sometimes she tried to come in to get into the sweet water, but two male snakes had been posted to guard the spot where she tried to get through. Now that female Waugal could change shape, so she turned herself into this weird-looking thing, which the male snakes hadn’t seen before, which was the seahorse. That is why the seahorse is part of our story for the river. There she was, swimming along like a seahorse in this weird shape with her long silvery white hair floating in the water, and of course the guards couldn’t help staring at her. They forgot what they were meant to be doing. They forgot they were supposed to stop anyone from getting through. By the time they realised what was happening, she was almost past them. They remembered just in time. The female Waugal realised they had caught on, so she dropped the disguise and left it in the deepest part of the river, where the water is over sixteen metres deep. It is called Djenalup, the footprint. She dropped the shape change, turned back into herself as a serpent, and took off with the male guards chasing her, trying to catch her. They didn’t have a hope because she went in under Blackwall Reach and headed inland. She created Perth Water and Melville Water. She went under what is now called North Lake Road and she came up in a few places along there. But she also came back looking for the male and couldn’t find him, and she lent gently against a hill and that is the area where the women’s fountain is in Kings Park and she looked for him, but when she realised he was gone she came down the Canning River and made what they call Pioneer Lakes. Then she came up and looked around near Murdoch University and then North Lake, then Bibra Lake, South Lake and so on; right the way through to the Murray River. She formed all those lakes all the way along. (Image 5.3)

  Image 5.3: Noel at a major Nyungar site—Djenalup in the Derbal Yerrigan (Swan River) 2007 Courtesy David Deeley

  She went straight in under the rock and there are three big caverns there. That is the beginning of another story, which the desert people can tell you. Because she went travelling straight out into the desert country and when she came out the other end she was caught in that country. That female one would eventually be the link to all Law, all the way across. They chased her across the land, went in a big storm right through Uluru to Queensland. There is an important pool there where she surfaced and then she turned back and went into what is known as the Dorrigo River. You will see three things wherever she went. There can be two hills and a valley; or two valleys and a hill; two white cockies and a crow; an eagle and two crows—everything is in threes. You will see that over and over again. And everyone who followed the trails knew that story and the songs and dances. And of course, while she was making all those places, the males were making their places too. The male Waugal is still here, living sometimes under what is now called Mt Eliza, or Kings Park. Our stories tell us how the Dreaming ancestors made the land. So where they traveled, that is where you get the songlines, the Dreaming tracks; you get the connections, you get different country, different people, different language, but they are all connected to each other.

  Unfortunately, it has taken a long time for people to recognise the importance of our waterways, and in the meantime a lot of harm has been done. Felling trees and fertiliser over-use have damaged our river systems. The Derbal looks mindytch, which means sick in Nyungar language. It just lies there, asleep. It has been doing that for a long time because it is sick and needs help, but the help is slow in coming. Effluent and pollutants still find their way into the river. It is pretty clear that some has come from the Belmont and Ascot racecourses, but there are also companies near the river that make bricks, tiles, cement, all those things. What we need is a group of Aboriginal people trained up as river rangers, with direct responsibility for going to companies along the river, monitoring the water, and finding out where this dreadful stuff is coming from. Polluting the river needs to be policed, which means the river rangers would need the clout to stop it when they find it. Nobody should be allowed to continue to pump waste into the Derbal.

  We have got to stop it because of our spirit. When the river is healthy, we are healthy. We have to make sure nothing is overlooked and that the right thing is done. Pollution in the river is like toxic waste, which can stay in the environment for thousands of years, even if you can’t see it or the damage it is doing. Often you can’t see the effluent in the river, and everyone thinks that if you can’t see it, the river is okay. People think it is clean because it is exposed to sea water and most of the sea water is clean; dolphins swim in it, so everyone thinks it’s all right. But the bottom of the river is just all black sludge. The mussels, which are the cleaners, the filter feeders in the river that clean and keep it tidy, are not there anymore. And every year, fish die. The toxicity shows up in tests, whether you can see it or not, it’s right there. The river is sick and it is really, really sad and needs us to help it get better. But even if we make a great effort now, it will be decades before anything we do has a proper impact. Also, the rainfall patterns seem to be changing. The rain is important because it flushes the river, but we don’t always gat a decent rainfall every year. The outlook for the Derbal is pretty bleak, yet it is such a beautiful thing in the middle of the city. If it weren’t for the sea and the salt water that is deposited in it, it would be a cesspool.

  I often think about what my Uncle Thomas taught me, what my mum taught me and what I have learned in my work in different places around the state as a national park ranger. There is a deep beauty in the land and the people, but there are many places that are sick and need help. If people are meant to be the Carers of Everything, then we have to accept that we are all responsible for helping to look after this country in an honest
and caring way.

  BERYL DIXON

  is a Nyungar Elder from the Great Southern region of Western Australia. Her bloodline links to country are through the Minang and Goreng peoples. (Image 6.1)

  Image 6.1

  Back Home to Country

  I’m nearing my eighty-second birthday, so I am in my twilight years really, but I’m still as sharp as a tack. I know what’s what in the present, and I can just as clearly recall my younger years growing up in the bush and living in small towns when my mum and dad followed the work, as Nyungar people had to in those days. Though I have lived in the city most of my adult life, I have made it my business to go back to my country, whether to live for a while or visit family or to put my feet again on the land where I was born all those years ago. When I walk in the footprints of my childhood, the years just fade away and I feel like I am there again as a young girl. I am flooded with wonderful memories of the sounds and smells of the bush, the joy and laughter of my sisters and me, and the connectedness and security from the voices and words shared with us kids from our Elders. Going bush was something we did all the time when I was young and it kept us grounded in culture and closely connected to our land.