by John Marsden
If a child, in the middle of this mock battle, wanted to pick up a twig that had fallen to the ground, he or she would do so with toes only, conveying it to the hand without once taking his or her eyes off the further onslaught of little spears, and thus continuing to successfully deflect the attack. They always stood side on in these encounters, so that they presented the narrowest possible targets to their opponents.
Boys stalked and killed insects, then brought them ‘home’ to the girls, as if they were kangaroos or wallabies or opossums. The girls, when not engaged in spear-fighting, occupied themselves by pretending to cook the insects brought to them by the boys, by building shelters from eucalyptus leaves, by nursing sticks that they called their babies and carrying these wooden infants around in bark vessels. Watching them, I used to think of the spoilt little rich girls of London, wheeling their elaborately dressed, exquisitely made dolls in expensive perambulators along the streets and through the parks. How they would have despised their dark-skinned cousins from New South Wales, and yet the latter seemed to derive more pleasure from their simple twig-dolls than did the proud little misses in Hyde Park from their porcelain creations.
The Indian girls carried their house-making games to such a degree that they frequently argued and fought like jealous older women, hitting each other over the head with the sticks they used for collecting roots, and screaming abuse. Not infrequently, they would knock down the eucalyptus leaf shelters in their mock rage, then suddenly squat in the sand poring over the positions of the fallen leaves as though able to see all kinds of prophecies in their patterns. They reminded me of an old gypsy woman I had seen in London, who claimed she could tell the future by studying the tea leaves left in the bottom of a cup.
The other game played by the children was the one that both Johnny and I found immeasurably shocking, for it was the imitation of adults in a different aspect of their lives. I did not have to look far to find the exemplars for this precocious behaviour, for men and women disported themselves publicly in ways that I found embarrassing, disturbing and, at the same time, I must confess, compelling. Approaching as I was the time when my own maturation was imminent, I could not help but be excited as much as repelled by the way the adults of the tribe flaunted themselves. Sometimes I thought of the Revd Mr Grimwade at St Martin’s, and how he would have viewed their promiscuity. I have no doubt that he would have predicted the fieriest tortures of Hell as their inevitable destination.
Certainly it was true that the children, inspired by the debauchery around them, were endlessly fascinated by their own private parts, and those of others, and were constantly acting out scenes of coition. Sometimes these were mere play; at other times they appeared to be achieving something closely resembling the practices of their elders. They had little compunction about using parts of the body I cannot bring myself to name to explore one another, paying little regard to such trivialities as gender. During games, the boys at times ran at other children, holding their organs of generation as though they were weapons, as though they were attempting coitus, and hence causing the other children to run away, giggling and screaming. Nama-Nama was not alone among the boys in urinating at children whom he wished to chase off. On one occasion the older children pulled a little boy, who could not have been more than three, away from a baby girl who looked to be only twelve months or so old, and with whom he was obviously attempting connection.
I could not be sure when childhood ended for these people, because there were no boys whose age corresponded closely to mine. I had the feeling that the natives were puzzled by me, in one respect at least. It was evident that at some stage boys were operated upon in ways which must have been very painful, but which were necessary for them to become full adults. One part of this process I had already observed: the cicatrices seen on the chests and arms of adult males around Botany Bay and Toongabbie, and in the tribe among whom we now dwelled. On men like Chaginnini these scars were fierce indeed. A second operation performed on boys was already familiar to me, and is almost universal practice in my own country, except that we inflict it on males when they are still infants. Among the aboriginal people of New South Wales, however, it appeared that the operation took place at a more advanced age. I was still intact in this respect, which was unusual enough among English lads, and seemed to perplex the natives greatly, as I was probably past the age when they would have expected the operation to be performed.
The third procedure was one that I had heard discussed by the convicts at Toongabbie, where it had been the subject of fascination, mirth and fear in approximately equal proportions. Amongst the people with whom we now dwelled I had my first opportunity to see the results of this primitive rite at close quarters. I refer to the practice known as subincision. I have said that the members of the tribe went naked, but although that was true for the women and children, the men, when in the company of women, wore a tassel which I had first thought was donned as a modest cover for the male organ, but which, I eventually came to realise, was to conceal the evidence of subincision. They were mortified when women, on occasions, were by chance able to view these quite dramatic cuts, which again appeared to be associated with initiation into manhood. I thought it a rather dreadful sight myself, and shrank at the thought of the pain it must have involved.
Although Johnny satisfied the requirements of manhood in one respect, he did not, of course, in the other two; and I failed on all counts. Fortunately for us, however, the natives made no attempt to remedy these defects.
Almost equally extraordinary and abhorrent to me was the custom among the women of cutting off the top two joints of the little finger on the left hand. All adult women suffered this amputation. Apparently it served a similar purpose to the wounds inflicted on the men: a kind of initiation ritual. The practice was called by the people ‘malgun’.
Perhaps the lack of these gruesome wounds helped account for the apparent reluctance of the tribe to admit us into their ranks. Perhaps previous encounters with escapees and runaways had not been happy experiences for them. Or perhaps they were simply not interested in connecting with people who obviously had so little to offer and who taxed their already meagre resources. Whatever the reason, we were with them many weeks before we felt reasonably well accepted into their midst. Although they had quickly dropped the habit of following us if we appeared to be moving out of their sight, for a long time we felt of little more value or status than the miserable native dogs that skulked around their camp.
Chapter 40
Gradually the Indians shared food with us more readily and more generously. Little was asked of us in return, and so as time went on we put on condition, and I for one started to feel some energy and strength returning to my limbs. In the absence of much warmth or interest from the adults, I found myself settling into the role of a sort of older playmate to the children and spent some hours each day in their company. With my experience of doll-making in London, I thought I would try my hand here in the primitive forest, and so I borrowed a stone knife from a man named Kutuku. It was awkward for me to handle at first, but I soon became used to it and found it surprisingly efficacious. However, it proved extremely difficult to find any wood worth carving: most of it was too hard or too soft or too brittle. Eventually I hit upon a few good pieces, particularly when I found some driftwood on the banks of a broad and slow-flowing stream.
I completed the first doll and gave it to a group of girls one afternoon when they returned from a food-gathering expedition with their mothers. They were completely astonished by it, and quite fearful, stepping back and huddling together, looking at it apprehensively. When one of the bigger girls, a lass named Rainja, finally found the courage to take it from me, she immediately turned it upside down and back to front, inspecting its posterior closely. She seemed alarmed by what she found, and pointed urgently to the others, showing them that something was lacking. They chattered among themselves in great agitation and excitement. I formed the view tha
t they wanted to ensure it could defecate. This was an issue that did not seem to concern them with the twig-dolls they chose for themselves, but no doubt this was attributable to the fact that they made no attempt to give these twigs any resemblance to real children. I took back from Rainja the doll I had carved, and with a pointy piece of hardwood drilled into the soft driftwood in the appropriate place to make something resembling the necessary anatomical correction. The girls seemed greatly relieved by this small piece of surgery, and then adopted the doll with enthusiasm. They seemed to play with it, and to talk with it, as though it were a real infant. They gave it orders, and chastened it when it did not obey; they took it to the creek and made it ‘drink’; they put it into a bark cradle and took it with them wherever they went.
Johnny and I also made spears, using the same materials and techniques that we had observed employed by the hunters. Our early attempts were vastly inferior to those of the natives, to the men’s great amusement, but we still used them for practice, whilst at the same time trying to improve upon our prototypes. We were soon making quite passable weapons, and the accuracy of our throwing developed too, although we could not match the Indians for distance. The range they achieved was prodigious, most of them exceeding thirty yards with ease, yet still hitting their targets. With the spear throwers, or ‘woomeras’ as they called them, they could get twice as far.
Nonetheless we were delighted to be invited one evening to accompany the tribe upon a major hunting expedition. The moon was full, which seemed to give them the confidence to find their way through the forest at such a late hour. This was the first time I had seen such a united endeavour, and the first time I had seen a night-time hunt. Food had been scarce for some days, and clearly in their minds the time had come for decisive action.
We walked for about an hour. I did my best to tread silently, but Johnny, who was in front of me, made as much noise as a drunken tinker in a cobblestoned alleyway in London. In contrast, I could not hear the natives at all. Yet when we paused in the middle of crossing a stream Johnny said to me: ‘Can you not make less noise, Barnaby? Compared to our dusky friends, you sound like a draught horse dragging a wagonload of beer barrels.’
‘I thought you were the one making the noise,’ I stammered back in astonishment.
‘Hah,’ he ejaculated, and said no more.
When we reached the appointed spot, we waited to see what would happen, but it gradually became obvious that nothing in particular was planned in the near future. This was the way of these people. They did not seem to mind if something took a long time or a short. The children would sometimes spend almost an entire day searching for witchetty grubs, which they found by digging under certain plants where the discarded shells lay and then breaking into the thick roots to pull out the treats. The grubs were certainly exquisitely delicious, tasting something like creamy scrambled eggs, but left to myself I would not have spent an entire day looking for them.
However, as the night wore on, the great man Chaginnini roused the others, and the men began to construct a fence from dead logs, fallen branches and torn-up bushes. It became clear that they were planning an ambush. The women and children set off in the moonlight, in an eastwards direction, and were soon out of sight. I was relieved that I had not been classified as being among their number; it seemed the tribe had decided that, although I lacked the insignia of initiation, I could be safely accorded the status of man rather than child. This pleased me greatly. It may seem to my readers that an English lad is degrading himself and his proud race by paying any care to the rank he is accorded by savages, but our long residence within the tribe, my affection for the children, and my growing respect for the manners and customs of the people with whom we dwelled had wrought a change in my sentiments. And they had, after all, saved Johnny and me from certain death.
As we worked on the barricade I asked one of the men by sign language the purpose of it, and he responded with an excellent imitation of a kangaroo, and the word ‘patagaran’. So I knew then the prey for which we lay in wait. A great comfort of life in New South Wales was that so far as I could tell – and this was borne out by the accounts of other colonists – the country was not inhabited by lions, tigers, bears or other savage creatures. The kangaroo was known to be capable of inflicting great damage with his powerful hindquarters, and although the Governor’s greyhounds were a little faster than the kangaroos, as I have said, the latter fought fiercely when cornered, and not many dogs came away from the battle without a few lacerations. Humans, however, had nothing to fear from these creatures, who much preferred discretion to valour, and grazed entirely on grass.
When the fence was completed, the men, including Johnny and me, took up positions behind it, each according to his preference. There was nothing of the British military system about their organisation; they did as they liked. The night passed slowly. I dozed for most of it. The forest in this remote country seemed very quiet at night to me, although I had no experience of British conditions with which to compare it. Occasionally I heard the double hoot of an owl, and once there was a mad scramble by some animal high in the treetops, but other sounds were few and far between.
I trusted to our sable companions to rouse me should the occasion demand it, but it was Johnny who eventually prodded me into full wakefulness.
A grey light at the edge of the sky showed that dawn was imminent, but the full moon continued to illuminate our surroundings. Around me the men were stirring, and taking up their positions. I moved to the best spot I could find and crouched behind the barricade. The warriors appeared to hear something before I did, for suddenly a surge of energy ran along the line, and every man took a tight grip on his spear or spear thrower and raised his arm. I did likewise, and a moment later heard the distinctive thumping of kangaroos in full flight, and beyond them the indistinct cries of the native women and children. Clearly it had been their job to flush out the prey.
As the kangaroos appeared, I could understand why the Indians had chosen a full moon for their hunt. It would have been impossible to discern these grey creatures at any other time. But suddenly I saw the distinctive head and pointed ears of one, then another, then another, coming straight towards us, silhouetted against the skyline. To my left, Chaginnini rose to his full height and threw a spear with tremendous force. It impaled a large kangaroo through the neck; I saw the spear emerge from the other side; the creature took a great leap and fell straight to the ground.
This was the signal for a shower of spears. To my right Kutuku hurled his with deadly accuracy. I saw it bury itself in the chest of a smaller kangaroo, which turned, staggered, and then slowly toppled over. I fixed on a target, an animal about the same size as the one Kutuku had felled, and threw my spear with all the force I could muster. To my chagrin, I missed by about a yard, and was only consoled by the sight of Johnny’s spear missing his target by an approximately equal margin.
The drove of kangaroos, taken completely unawares, now swerved indiscriminately to left and right. Spears continued to follow them, and I saw two more felled before the survivors disappeared from my view.
As we emerged from cover and began to inspect the fallen animals, the women and children arrived, sweating and panting and laughing, evincing great pleasure at the success of the hunt. The men, too, showed obvious delight. Nine adult creatures – only one a male – and two young ones had been brought down. Many of the men customarily carried wooden clubs, some of them of considerable size and weight, and they now used these to crush the heads of any unfortunate beasts who were still alive.
As soon as full daylight was upon us, Chaginnini and a couple of other hunters began to inspect the ground, and found something that had them jabbering to each other in excitement. Following them, I realised that they had discovered a trail of blood, and with a steady loping gait they now set off to seek its source. I followed for a few minutes but was unable to keep up with them, and so returned to the others. Wit
hin an hour the hunters came back with the body of a young male kangaroo. Judging from the state of its skull, I assumed it was still alive when they had caught up with it, but its end would have been swift when Chaginnini arrived.
Chapter 41
As might be imagined, much gaiety and feasting followed the successful ambush of the kangaroos. This was accompanied by dancing and music-making. I confess I now found much of the latter form of entertainment quite interminable. They seemed to have many songs, which covered a variety of themes, but my deficient understanding of their language, and the monotony of the music, had gradually diminished the appeal of these to me.
The dances were a different matter however, as they had a more varied repertoire. War, the weather, hunting and love seemed to be common topics, in which respect they differed little from their European counterparts, and no doubt from people the world over. Yet I had never seen anything in London which much resembled the dancing of these natives of the New World. Out in the dark forest, under a sky alive with glittering stars, with the leaping flames of a fire as backdrop, hunters or women, their skin painted with brazen white stripes or dots or circles, their brown eyes deeply beautiful in the semi-darkness, sprang fiercely towards me, stamped repeatedly on the ground, then sprang away again. It was both frightening and exhilarating. Many of the dances seemed designed to intimidate. Others were clearly charged with a sexual energy which had my cheeks burning red from more than just the reflection of the fire. The dancers were tremendously agile, none more so than Chaginnini. I found it hard to hold my ground when he came at me, brandishing a huge wooden club, his hair embellished by long pieces of bone, but I felt that a show of fear would cost me what little respect I had gained in these people’s eyes, and so, difficult though it was, I maintained my outward composure.
