When Darkness Falls

by John Bodey

  “Can we rest now, or is there something still for us to do?” Munni asked his mother.

  “No, son, rest.” She turned to Cuddy. “Let those who have returned sleep for as long as they like. Did the children manage to find much food?”

  “They did very well. We caught two big perentie, and there’s enough for a big stew.”

  “Good! Wake me when the sun starts into the afternoon. Ask the children to collect wood for the fire, and get them out digging and hunting again.”

  “Yes, Aunty. You go and have a good sleep, you’re swaying on your feet.”

  As she talked to Cuddy, she watched her son Munni take Nelli’s hand. Now they walked away together, stopping to pick up the three babies, a large bowl of water, and went into the shade of the crackling gum. She watched as they sat and fed the children, and when they had finished and lay back in the shade talking quietly until their eyes closed in sleep. She smiled a gentle, loving smile, and relaxed within herself.

  “You have chosen well, my son,” she thought. “Nelli will make you a fine wife, a good mother for your children, and a daughter that I can be proud of. But for a while, just be the children you still are, for as long as you can.”

  Within days, the rested youths, with water and food in their bellies, had combed the area around the hillock and beyond. Their food source was becoming depleted, as the woman had known it would. Soon they would have to move, but where? This was a constant worry, from the moment of her waking until she closed her eyes to sleep. The children were stronger now; it would be possible for them to last at least another three days before the problem of water became acute again. They would have to move; soon she would start filling all the containers she could find...

  Sitting on the ridge of the hill, on a place cleared for the three crawling babies to play, Munni and Nelli sat and watched the sun slowly slip towards the distant horizon. Soon they would gather up the babies and make their way down to the group and the evening meal; then they would sit and talk to Mother, and afterwards with Datun make their way back to the top of the hill for the night. Here, they could catch the slightest breath of wind to make their sleeping easier. Boodjang had also been asked, but he had taken a liking to the girl Cuddy, and hung around waiting, waiting for his courage to build to ask if she would accept him as her husband.

  Tonight, Munni had decided to approach his mother about moving on. He, Nelli and Datun had discussed the issue over and over for the past two days. They would have to leave soon, the water was beginning to have a funny taste, and there was very little left. As Nelli bent to pick up a child from the ground, a flickering movement caught her eye. She stood, placing the child astride her hip, and looked off into the gathering darkness.

  “Munni? Is that light over there a flickering fire? Or is it a star rising for the night?”

  “It’s too dark to see any sign of smoke, but I’d say it is definitely a fire, a long way off.”

  “Could it be from our people?”

  “I don’t think so, not unless they are lost. This is too far towards where the sun sets; they would have gone further north. Stay here with the babies while I run down and get Mother.”

  He soon returned with Mother, and as she climbed to the crest she felt the slightest tremblings from within, and a feeling of hope filled her. The Spirits were watching over them. The Ancients weren’t going to let them die. When she reached the now darkening crest, she peered anxiously around the landscape and looked off into the darkness.

  “Does the light still burn, Nelli?”

  “Yes, Mother, though faintly. Follow along the back of my outstretched arm and look for the dull red glow. It is still there, but if you look away, it takes a little while to pick it up again.”

  She followed the girl’s directions and finally saw the small red glow. It was a fire glow, of that she was sure, but how far away she couldn’t tell. Where there was fire, there was life, where there was life there was help, help that could save her children.

  “The Spirits have sent us a sign,” she said. “Tomorrow we will go and find where this fire is, and who lit it.”

  “No, Mother. Not tomorrow. Tonight, while it is still fresh in my mind. Datun is here beside me and we can get Boodjang and travel in the coolness of the night. We should be somewhere close to it by dawn.”

  “You are only children! What if something happens to you? What if those out there are dangerous? What if you get lost? I don’t want to lose you my son, you are all I have in this world.”

  “Mother,” Nelli said gently, “he is still a child to you, but he is a man now ... I fear for his safety too. I would go with him, but I can’t. I have our babies to look after, so I let him go. You have far more to look after than me. This is a man’s thing. It is time you let him be a man.”

  “You are right, Nelli. Forgive me, son. But life is changing too fast for me to keep up with it. It was only a couple of days ago that you were a child. Tonight you stand before me as a man with a wife, and three children. It is a big responsibility for people so young.” She paused. “I thank the Spirits of our Ancestors for giving me the daughter that they have. I will be a good grandmother to your children.”

  “Thank you, Mother.”

  “Come, Mother, help us carry the babies down the hill. Datun has gone on ahead to fetch the water and get Boodjang.”

  “Be careful on your journey, son, and don’t take any stupid chances. Hurry home, you three.”

  The sun of the following day hung low in the sky. Dust particles hovered in the still, evening air, and the children sat with an air of expectancy. On the hillock Nelli’s gaze traversed the darkening folds of ground in the direction of the fire glow—all at once she saw the faint swirls of dust rising from plodding feet. She waited a moment to be sure, then reached out and grabbed Mothers arm.

  “There!”

  Nelli passed her one of the babies, and bent to pick up another, and together with Gulag they made their way down the hill back to the soak. Mother was delighted when she saw the big roo slung around her son’s neck—she had yet to see the bungarras, snakes and a couple of turtles carried by the others.

  “How in the name of all the Spirits did you manage to kill that?”

  “We didn’t. We didn’t catch or cook any of this.”

  And Datun and Boodjang stepped forward.

  “How about cutting it all up first. The sounds of all these empty bellies rumbling are enough to deafen a man.”

  “Nelli, Cuddy, help me with this food. We have enough to eat tomorrow, and what’s left over on the following day. While we eat, tell us about the good people that provided this food. There’s enough here for many. What name is this tribe? How many are there?”

  “That’s just it, Mother. There was no one there. Nothing. No tribe, no people, no footprints.”

  “Then how did you find all this?”

  “There was this burnt-off patch of spinifex on top of a small hill, and at its base, another burnt patch, and in the middle a left-over cooking fire. Datun reckoned he could smell cooked food and we teased him, saying he was mad, and we would have to find a witch doctor. But he proved right. We dug up the fire, and found all this.”

  “And no other signs? Nothing at all?”

  “There was another sign, a drawing—well, marks by a stick. Boodjang reckoned it looked like a large pair of tits, but we reckoned he was only thinking about Cuddy. There was definitely a sun to one side of them, and at the bottom this swiggly circle with a couple of trees—they were trees, we agreed on that. Then it made sense. They were hills, trees, and water at the bottom. Someone was trying to tell us something. I think you should go and have a look, Mother.”

  “We’ll all go.”

  “And leave our source of water before trying to find another? Would you play with our lives like the Elders did, Mother?”

  “You know me better than that, son. Nelli has told me you had already decided to talk to me about moving on; I too have been plagued with worries. B
ut whether we go this night, tomorrow night, or in two days time, the problem is the same. We have nearly drained all the water that this spring has to give.”

  “We know.”

  “It is time to move on. I asked Cuddy to gather every container that isn’t being used and to fill them when the water level permits. We even dug a little sink. She has been doing this for the last few days. The only containers left to fill are those that you men took with you and the ones we use to cook with. We can go whenever you are ready.”

  “Then we leave as soon as they are filled. Call us when they are ready, and we will leave when Mother gives the word.”

  They walked the night away. Not hurrying, but walking at a pace comfortable to the youngest. As the night hours lengthened and weariness settled on tired feet, the bigger kids took to humping the smallest, swapping with one another, resting each other, helping the best way they could. And so they stumbled into the false light of pre-dawn. At last Mother called a halt and they sank wearily into the cold sand at the bottom of a huge sandhill. In moments they were asleep.

  The heat of the sun and the crying of the hungry babies woke them. They sipped the metered quantity of water given them and made ready to go on. In the heat of the blazing sun, they reached the burnt-off area, and stood waiting while the eldest amongst them gathered around the sand drawings.

  “It is as easy to read as the tracks of an old man roo, or an old bungarra. The sign says that this drawing is made to be read for the afternoon...” Munni’s voice held a positive note.

  “Where does it say that?”

  “See the line through the top of the sun? That’s the horizon, it shows the sun has gone. If it was morning, the line would go through the bottom of the sun. Now we have a direction; the sign says we go north until we see two big hills about the same size. Keep smack in the middle of them and between them are high walled cliffs and a gorge where we will find water.”

  “Shall we go on, Mother?”

  “Yes. We must keep moving.” She turned to Cuddy. “Once we are on our way, give everyone only half a measure. We don’t know how far we have to go, so we had better ration out our water supply.”

  “They walked until the darkness closed down on the country around them. The food that Mother had lugged through the day was shared out, and even the babies sucked on the juices and fats with relish. Mother looked up as the girl who had suckled the baby to her breast appeared and stood there holding the listless child in her arms.”

  “Give it to me. Haven’t you been feeding it?”

  “I’ve been dribbling water in his mouth all the time, but since the heat, he cries and cries, and I don’t have any more water to give him. And he runs shit all the time.”

  “Has your milk dried up?”

  “What milk? This is not my child. His mother put him face-down in the sand, hoping he would suck the sand into his lungs and die. I grabbed him after she left and was helping him to find his way to the Spirit world. But then you came and he still lives, but not for much longer, I think.”

  “How stupid of me. I remember you now, and this child. It was the first one I gave water to at the other camp. You should have come to me sooner and told me. Do you feel for this little one?”

  “Of course. That is why I am here. I need you to save him for me. I once thought that if he died I would be free, but it is too late for that now, he has reached into my body and grabbed my heart, and the thought of losing him is tearing it apart. Your son has three babies, all bigger than mine, and when they cry Nelli waters them all the time. I have only the water that they give me, and it is not enough, he needs it all the time. If I had enough water and food and someone to help me ... I think that he might live, for he knows that he has my heart. If he dies, we will stay here in this place.”

  “Datun, that small container that’s empty, have you still got it? Give it to this girl. Nelli, break off a back leg from that bit of bungarra that’s left—what is your name, girl?”

  “Kahla, and I have named this one Sharca the brave.”

  “Then, Kahla, take only the white meat, no skin, and no fat, otherwise young Sharca the brave will get even sicker than he is. Chew the meat into a mash, suck the juice out of it, and while you are doing that, grind this dried leaf and mix the two together. Take a little, roll it into a ball, open his mouth, poke it to the back and drop in some water, then hold his mouth shut until he swallows. Then do it again until he has swallowed as much as half your thumb. After that it is up to the Spirits.”

  “That will save him?”

  “It’s a start. Only time will tell, and if he is as you have named him, we shall see what the Spirits decree. I think that you should stay close to us for a while.”

  “Thank you, Mother, now I know he will live.”

  “Don’t be too sure; he has a long fight ahead of him. If the running shit stops, then I think he will have a chance. Keep him warm, and show him your love; it will help him in his fight for life.”

  They bedded down with the birds, and all through the night Kahla lay half-asleep, half-awake, chewing and feeding the child every time it shat. She felt for the container of water Datun had handed her, and used a splash to wash his sore little bottom, never questioning that the supply was always full. On into the night she nursed the baby, comforting it when the cramping pains gripped its tiny guts and made it cry out, singing to it and soothing it. Mother relieved the girl of her burden as the morning star shone.

  When Munni woke from his restless sleep, he saw his mother curled up asleep near the girl with the child cradled in her arms. Strangely, there was silence: no more crying from the baby.

  “Then that is it,” he thought. “The child has gone. The Spirits have relieved it of its pain and taken it to the land of our Ancestors.”

  He lay and held the sleeping form of Nelli and hugged her to himself. He searched for his sleeping children, and saw they slept soundlessly in untroubled sleep. He saw the first of the children rise and walk away to waste his water. He knew he should let his mother sleep some more, but he had no idea how far they would have to walk this day or the next, and they would have to bury Sharca. He shook Nelli into wakefulness, then crawled to his mother and gently shook her until she stretched and yawned.

  “Don’t wake Kahla, son. Let her sleep as long as possible. She and Sharca have had a rough night of it.”

  “But he’s dead.”

  “No, son, he sleeps life back into his little body. The meat and the herbs stopped his running shit. He will be all right now. We must never again forget the helplessness of a baby. It was a good lesson to learn, but it very nearly cost us a child’s life.”

  “Shall we divvy up the food and the water?”

  “Not today. Today we travel on empty stomachs. Who knows how far away those hills are.”

  “Then let’s travel while it’s still cool. If today is as hot as yesterday, we are going to have to stop and rest more.”

  “Let’s see what today brings. By tonight we may all be sleeping beside cool waters. Then again, we may not.”

  They trudged away to the north, and slowly the sandhills became noticeably smaller and the ground began to level out into gravel or rocky swales. The vegetation changed as they trudged on through the heat of the day. Their travel slowed; those in distress held back the others. The rocks were heated by the sun, and the hot sand burned the soles of their feet. More and more, water was being cried for; it was obvious they would have to hole up until the fierce heat of the day had passed.

  Still there was no sign of the hills they were searching for. The land had become more barren, drier, hotter. A heat-daze danced all day, and everyone’s lips began to dry and crack. There were no signs of water; even in the larger creeks the trees had a dusty quality about them. As soon as the land cooled enough to walk, they pushed on.

  The babies were passed around from Mother, Munni, Nelli, Boodjang, Cuddy and Datun. When Mother turned to help the untiring Kahla, she was refused; she had done more t
han enough. But for some of the distance through the heat Datun carried the feather-light infant in one arm, his supply of water in the other.

  They walked on into the night, savouring the coolness, but cursing the jagged rock and the brutal scrub that tore their feet.

  “Enough, Mother,” Munni said at last. “Let us rest till morning. Why rip ourselves to pieces stumbling through the dark?”

  “Yes, I’m as tired as you and the rest. Maybe a good night’s sleep would be best at this stage. But one thing I have learnt this night. Even the youngest has a better knowledge of swearing and cursing than I had ever imagined!”

  “While we have humour, Mother, we have no worries. And Datun and I here learned one lesson from this walk. The day we leave a message like the one we found, we’re gonna put how many days it will take to get to the place. It’s like holding out a handful of sugarbag that you just can’t seem to reach.”

  “Is that how Nelli sees it?”

  “Nelli reckons the day we find us a homeland is the day she sets up camp for good. No more walkabout for her, this lot will last her a lifetime.”

  “Then she thinks we will make it?”

  “Do you doubt it?”

  “No, son. The Spirits led me to the first water that saved our hides, and I have faith that they are showing us to water again. My worry is that we didn’t put enough effort and speed into our first day, and might now pay for our slowness. Perhaps it is time to send the strong ones ahead.”

  “Never ... never again for as long as I have a say will the weak be left behind for the good of the tribe. If we are to perish, so be it. But we will bury our dead as we have always done, mounted on frames and covered well to keep their bodies from carrion. Then when we have said our goodbyes, we will travel until the next one is called to the Land of our Ancestors. But have no fears, Mother. We will make it.”

  “When the time comes, my son, you will make a good and strong leader. Use both your heart and your head, and if in doubt never hesitate to ask your mate. Ah, sleep grows heavy on me.”

  Hardly had her eyes closed it seemed before she was awake once more. She opened her eyes to the grey light of another pre-dawn. Only Nelli had woken and now stood looking to the north.