Earth, page 12
‘You, burron, what you talkin’ to that bobup ‘bout? You scare ‘im proper. Shush now. Come ‘ere let me see that liddle Woorer Woorer.’
‘Yes, Aunty.’
‘You Alfie, eh?’
‘Yes, Aunty.’
‘Fat baby this one. Oh, Betty proud this one I tell you. Take ‘im along creek liddle bit. There Moorabool, daddy this one.’
‘Yes, Aunty.’
‘An’ Alfie, you don’ look that ol’ man, alright?’
‘Yes, Aunty.’
‘Liddle bobup he look daddy, no trouble. You good boy, Alfie. I heard ‘bout you. Save your uncle. Still burron but think like guli man. You make us proud bye an’ bye.’
‘Yes, Aunty.’
‘Look out ‘ere come ol’ man now. Ooh he sick fella now. Look ‘ow he walk that brave warrior man. You go now.’
‘Yes, Aunty.’
‘Don’ cry Woori, please, that ol’ lady your aunty an’ this ol’ fella comin’ up from creek is your daddy.’
‘Burron.’
‘Yes, Uncle?’
‘Bring bobup.’
‘Yes, Uncle.’
‘Here, take blanket, let me look. Fat bobup, eh? Real fat bobup. He Woorer Woorer, not Augustus.’
‘We call ‘im that, Uncle. Me an’ Grandpa. Grandma says Augustus but he knows he’s Woorer Woorer. He looks at sky all the time, too.’
‘Yueh, I see that. Alright, you listen ‘ere now, burron. Longa time come, bring burron to camp, say eight, nine year, alright. An’ you, you ready now, my wanung, you know ‘bout this?’
‘Yes, Uncle.’
‘You come too wanung, soon alright. Time you be man alright? Doan tell no one, no amerjee ‘cept that ol’ Arnie Tomkins, alright. No one know, just us peoples, alright?’
‘Yes, Uncle.’
‘You true now my little wanung?’
‘Yes, Uncle, I’m not scared.’
“Course you not. You guli already, we see that. Bring that Frank too, eh?’
‘Yes, Uncle.’
‘Tell ‘im be careful, alright. An’ watch out Wong ong gul. White men huntin’ us peoples. Unerstan’?’
‘Yes, Uncle. Grandpa is worried about them taking Woorer Woorer.’
‘You too, alright. Doan be tricked. Doan let ‘em take you anywhere, alright. They stealin’ us peoples. Unerstan’?’
‘Yes, Uncle, I’ll be careful.’
‘Little wanung, you good man already. You tell that Frank ‘bout Wong on gul, alright?’
*
‘All the women are talking about it. What Moorabool hasn’t been blamed for is no one’s business. Any blackfella. And the way they shut up when I appear they’re counting you amongst them.’
‘I’m sorry, Claudie.’
‘It’s not your fault, Frank, I’m not really saying that but you can see how your support for the Aborigines has prejudiced them against you, against us.’
‘Yes, I see it too, Claudie, I’m sorry – ’
‘I’m not blaming you, Frank, I believe what you’re doing is important and right. And do you know what’s more important than that, kindness and love, because it breeds kindness and love all around. Now, don’t put on that “but” face. No buts, you know it’s true and it’s your good heart taught me. I know you’ll say I wasn’t too kind when it came to your . . . background, but it scared me, Frank. You know where I grew up. You saw our hut. I’m not going back there, Frank, ever, and to my great shame I sometimes think I’d leave you if you tried to threaten our life.’
‘Don’t cry, Claudie.’
‘I mean it, Frank. My heart is so hard I’d just up and leave because I won’t go back to that, Frank . . . for anything. I promised myself. I won’t take my children and grandchildren back to poverty, nothing will stand in my way. It’s why I’m so hard on Gertie, too.’
‘I know that, Claudie.’
‘I can’t, Frank. Hard heart or no there’s nothing good about being poor, there’s no virtue in hunger and cold.’
‘Your heart isn’t hard, me darlin’, and neither is mine. We’ve just been pitched into a world without our asking and it’s full of Christians who would spit on Christ if he walked past them in rags or the wrong colour. We can’t help it.’
‘We can, Frank, we can stay out of trouble, we can protect our life.’
‘We will, Claudie.’
‘How can you promise me that, Frank, we just get in deeper every day.’
‘Please, Claudie don’t cry, you’ll have me bawlin’ soon and you’ll wake up the kids. We’ll just keep our heads down, our noses clean and work hard. They can’t object to that. Now look at your face, Claudie, you’ve gone and got it all wet and streaky.’
‘Oh, Frank, as if that matters.’
‘Claudie, I love you and I’d do anything to keep you from being unhappy.’
‘Unless one of them filthy old men came out of the bush and asked you to look after a baby or steal a sheep or –’
‘I’ve never stolen a sheep in my life and – ’
‘You know what I mean, Frank. They make demands on you and you’re too kind to refuse.’
‘It’s not kindness, Claudie, I have to. Now don’t put on your impatient face, listen to me. My first job is to keep house and hearth together, but if I can help the old people without getting us into strife I’ll do it. Now, now, Claudie, it’s not black and white, it’s not you or them, nothin’s that simple. The whole district is a mess and we’re just unlucky enough to be tryin’ to raise a family while it’s the way it is at the moment. Come here my darling, come on, let me hold you, just rest now my lovely girl, just rest, surely God means no ill to those who try to do their best. Just rest now, let me pull that hair away from your face, see you’ve made it all wet. Now, that’s better. See, I’m going to rub out all those lines with my finger. Feel them going?’
‘You’re full of blarney, Frank.’
‘Smooth as a baby’s bottom, all gone, just like the girl I married.’
‘In her rag dress.’
The most beautiful woman in all of Geelong. I didn’t want to marry a dress and I don’t now. All I could see was woman, all the beauty, all the softness, all the steel, all the grace, all the proud, brave heart.’
‘Shh, Frank.’
‘Oh you love it, Claudie.’
‘I do, you know I do.’
‘And you deserve it, Claudie. What would there be if we didn’t have this? Fine furniture? Quails’ eggs? Truffles? Whatever them people eat? Laces so fiddly it’d take a woman half her poverty-stricken life to make one? How can it possibly make you happy if you don’t have this?’
‘Shh, Frank.’
‘If I couldn’t look down into your face, Claudie, and whisper the truth of my heart, I’d have nothing that mattered. I’d be a granite block. Fine clothes, delicate food –’
‘Shh, Frank.’
*
‘Grandma go to sleep, Grandpa?’
‘Eventually, Alf. What are you doing awake anyway?’
‘The owl is out here again, Grandpa.’
‘Mmm, I heard it from the bedroom.’
‘Moorabool told me to warn you about it again. He’s worried. What’s it tryin’ to tell us, Grandpa?’
‘Blowed if I know, Alfie, but it’s putting the wind up me proper I can tell you.’
‘He’s not hunting or anything.’
‘I know, Alfie, just let it rest now. Try and keep away from Moorabool, too. Get off to bed now and let me just have a moment of quiet out here and see if I can make sense of it . . . of anything.’
*
Dear Captain Hindsmith,
Thank you so much for your letter which reached me just yesterday. It was a great relief to hear that others in the colony view incidents in Australia with the same dread as myself.
Holding the views you do it is no wonder they sent you away from the district where you could do most good.
If you wish I could send you the reports of the Anti-Slavery Society and their activities in other parts of the globe and if you return to London your experience would illuminate the Society’s deliberations a great deal.
Yours faithfully,
Alwyn Angliss
P.S. You might care to use the name to which I intend to revert in future i.e. my family name of Hope.
7
Moorabool
‘Look, Frank they asked you to come because you’re related to Moorabool and they asked me to come to make sure you got here. You’re meant to see this but I’m not, so as soon as we find them I’ll have to turn back and wait for you.’
‘I appreciate your help, Arnie. What’ll you do? It could be hours.’
‘I’ve got some tobacco and I’ve got ears . . . but anyway, take this bag to the men. There’s a roll of paperbark I got down by the swamp and some hair . . . look Vera’s asked me to ask the old fellas if it’s alright to use some of hers . . . and mine . . . you understand . . . for the string . . . they’ll want some of yours but they mightn’t want our hair tyin’ up ol’ Moorabool so make sure you ask.’
‘It seems like a good-hearted gesture.’
‘Yeah, well a lot of good-hearted gestures are ill conceived, Frank, so please ask because I wouldn’t . . . it’s all about the spirit, Frank . . . and I wouldn’t want to upset his spirit because he – ’
‘Yeah, I know, Arnie.’
‘Just make sure, because I believe them, you can upset the spirits, not let ‘em rest an’ so forth. I’ll be waiting on this log. I’ll light a little fire so you’ll see where I’m camped . . . say goodbye to my brother for me, Frank, apart from Vera he’s the only family I’ve got.’
‘What if the old fellas ask – ’
‘They won’t, Frank. They know all about me an’ Moorabool growin’ up, but he’s a big man, bigger than most people know, so they’ve gotta do it right. I respect that . . . go on, piss off . . . he’s a good man that Frank, what a shame he knows bugger all about his people. It’s people like him that are supposed to take over from Moorabool but how can he, he knows bugger all . . . come on Arnie stop mopin’ to yerself, roll a little solace and have a smoke . . . by crikey I can hear ‘em already . . . they must have been just waitin’ for Frank, I suppose they reckon there’s still a chance of teachin’ him . . . listen to that, now . . . if I’d brought me dog he’d be gone by now, fair make ya hair stand up when they sing like that. They’ll be smokin’ him, I reckon, smokin’ out his gunyah an’ so forth, smokin’ away his spirit, roll ‘im up in the paper-bark, tie ‘im up with the hair string an’ put him up on that platform in the tree . . . I’m pretty sure I got a glimpse of that, just before it got dark . . . goodbye, my brother, you was my family.’
*
‘Ooh, now, now, look ol’ Arnie Tomkins sayin’ goodbye to our spirit brother, Moorabool. They chase ‘im from one end of the country to the other, shoot ‘im by the river, tie ‘im up in chains an’ then he goes an’ dies of old age . . . but far, far from ‘is ‘ome. Poor fella, Moorabool. An’ there’s that Frank stumblin’ aroun’ in the dark tryin’ to follow what the ol’ fellas are up to, doin’ ‘is best, but how we gunna get by with fellas like Frank, look white, think white most of the time, an’ know next to nothin’ ‘bout own peoples. Ooh, it’s a sorry time, true, but look at ‘em, they’re doin’ their best even though they’ll be in for a hidin’ tomorrow for not watchin’ out for ol’ Angliss’ sheep, even ol’ Arnie can’t cover up for that.
‘If them white fellas would show a bit a’ respect for our law we could all . . . ‘spose ya right Kaarwin, they’ve gotta act as if we’re not here or else they have to wonder what right they had to be here anyway . . . but like this we can’t even rest our spirits proper way, you know how you was chased up here, Kaarwin Kunawarn . . . should call ya Restless Swan not Hissin’ Swan. Anyway, anyway, our people doin’ their best down there . . . pity they not more like Arnie Tomkins an’ that Vera. What do ya reckon about her hair, my spirit brothers, right thing or not? Let the people work it out? It’s up to them now, all our rules are broken like the reeds by the lake when them bloody bullocks crash through the country . . . no respect, can’t even drink without turnin’ the sweet water inta kunang.’
*
‘That you, Frank? Good Lord, man, it looks like you’ve seen a – ’
‘I have, Arnie, let me sit for a bit.’
‘How did they – ’
‘Shh, listen.’
‘I’m listenin’, I’ve been listenin’ all bloody night.’
‘Shh, listen an’ watch for the sun. They said for you to watch for the sun.’
‘Piccaninny dawn.’
‘Shh. Right, now hear that, now see here’s the sun . . . he’s gone . . . they said not to say his name . . . he’s boongarri now, spirit fella, alright, an’ the ol’ fellas will decide about the hair.’
‘You’re shakin’, Frank.’
‘Too right I’m shakin’, Arnie, an’ I’m not gunna stop shakin’ until they roll me up in bark too.’
‘Boongarri, eh, gone with the sun.’
‘An’ the smoke, bunitjan an’ mirri.’
‘Bunitjan an’ mirri.’
‘Smoke an’ sun, Arnie. I tell you what, I’ve had the biggest fright of me life. I thought I had a fair idea . . . I thought I knew how things . . . but I know nothin’, Arnie, nothin’ an’ it scares the bloomin’ daylights outa me. I couldn’ understand half of what they said, couldn’ make sense of half of what they did, but I could see that it’s all about the dirt Arnie, about the land, the earth, an’ how we’re . . . the earth is . . . an’ when we die our brothers have to take us back an’ . . . they have to show us . . . it’s a dream, Arnie, it’s like I’m tryin’ to remember a dream, an’ now it’s all smoke an’ flames, an’ stuff I’ve never . . . do you know what I mean Arnie? It’s like another world, another way of – do you know what I mean, Arnie?’
‘Yes, Frank.’
‘Do you, Arnie? Do you understand it, because I’m buggered if – ’
‘Time, Frank, give ‘em time. They want to teach you that stuff. They need you, Frank.’
‘Me, how can they need someone as ignorant as me?’
‘Because you’re all they’ve got. You’re their blood and most of the rest of it is in the ground. You’re an ignorant mug, but you’re theirs.’
*
‘It’s something to do with Moorabool isn’t it, Frank? Now don’t lie to me. I can see by that look on your face that you’re trying to make something up. Tell me true, Frank and don’t trot out that stuff about helping Arnie with the shearing. They finished their shed yesterday. There’s talk of Moorabool. That’s it, isn’t it, I can see by your face.’
‘He died, Claudie, they asked me to help put him to rest but no one saw us . . . ’
‘But they know all the blacks have disappeared from Angliss’s an’ people saw them smokin’ Moorabool’s hut. There are people around who know that much, Frank.’
‘Alright, Claudie, but they won’t know me an Arnie were involved. We kept a few sheep back an’ we were doin’ ‘em at dawn an’ that’s the truth. Angliss even gave us a bag a’ spuds he was that pleased to see the shed done.’
‘Well maybe, Frank, maybe, but I was worried sick all night. I was looking for you, Frank. Here, put Cecily in her cot an’ then make a pot of tea an’ come back here. I want to talk to you. Check on the others while you’re out there, Frank . . . I’m going to have to tell him, it’s not fair otherwise . . . he’ll have to –?’
‘Here’s the tea. I’m just getting a drink of water for Gus.’
‘He’s a good man, I’ve been very lucky. I’ll have to-’
‘Now what is it, Claudie? I didn’t mean to upset you but I’m sure no one will know we were at Moorabool’s funeral.’
‘Well you said that about Billy Wurrun, you said it about the timber from Angliss’s, you said it when we took on Augustus, you said it after Moorabool escaped. You’re always saying it won’t matter and they always find out and we always suffer, Frank. You know the only things I ever wanted were your love and the safety and security of my family and look at us, Frank, looking over our shoulder, scared to say boo in the street. If you really loved me – ’
‘Now don’t start that, Claudie. You know, you damn well know you’ve never had to doubt my love, you know I’d never do anything to make you unhappy or risk our life – ’
‘But you are risking it, Frank. Ever since you started chasing after the black people, burying them, talking their lingo, believing their – ’
‘Claudie, just stop for a minute. Just stop. You know I can’t think on me feet like that, can’t keep up – ’
‘But what is there to think about, Frank. There’s only things to do.’
‘And we’ll do what’s necessary but I’ve got responsibilities –’
‘There you go again, Frank, you’ve got responsibilities here, Frank, you’ve got babies to feed and clothe, children to educate and we’re dependent on the town for our work, if they turn against us, if they think we’re working against them they’ll cast us out. I can’t stand it, Frank. All I ever asked – ’
‘Alright, alright, Claudie, I know what you’re saying, I know what’s goin’ on, I’m doin’ me best to earn enough to – ’
‘I know you are, Frank, but I’m scared, Frank, not just about the town and everything . . . I’m scared, Frank . . . Frank, I’m not well.’
‘Well, have your cup of tea an’ try an’ get some sleep then. All this malarky is doin’ no good for –’
‘You’re not listening, Frank. I’m not well. I’ve been a midwife all these years, I should know it when I see it.’
