culture deeply. But I think some of those tjurunga will return one day.”
The Elder’s remark was very surprising after finding the cave storehouse empty, but he placed his right hand over his heart.
“I’m confident that three tjurunga can be found. They belong to a Dreaming Track (Tywerrenge impatye) or Songline, but went missing decades ago! As a custodian it’s my job to find them. Once they’re back ‘home’ we’ll perform ceremonies on the Songline’s sacred sites. Dancing and chanting will energise people and country again.”
Rob could see in the Elder’s expressive eyes how much the return of the sacred objects meant to him.
“It’s so important isn’t it. Your connection to country’s so deep, and I understand why they have to be returned. People need to know you’re looking for them, so the word has to go out. What about a website, would that help? I’ll show you a few ideas when we get back to Alice.”
The Elder smiled gratefully as he barely took in what Rob said. His thoughts were taken up by the loss of so many sacred objects over the years and his fresh determination to bring three of them home.
* * *
They sat down on large, smooth rocks and opened their water bottles, as an image flashed into Rob’s mind, surprising him because it was sudden as well as strangely familiar. After a few moments he began to describe it out loud.
“Five Aboriginal men are walking, one behind the other, through identical country to this. They’re moving along at a good pace, it’s early morning and they look like men of importance. That’s it!” Rob exclaimed into the quietness. “I had the same vision on the plane flying out to Uluru, but what did I see? Was I one of the senior men walking towards the cave?”
The Elder heard every word, and apparently others between them. “That’s when you were here before. Your vision enabled you to re-enter the dimension of a previous life! That gift came back clearly and quickly in just a few days!”
What more could Rob say? He went quiet, but was agitated within, the sound of his breath almost audible over the slight breeze. He was processing this huge realisation mentally and emotionally, and was not ready to get up. With eyes closed and his mind replaying the vision, his breaths now balanced, he gently shook his head from side to side in awe. After a lengthy pause and another mouthful of water he was ready to keep going.
Rob was comfortable that the Elder always knew which way to go, but the peculiar thing was he definitely felt this walk was familiar. Did his feeling confirm he had walked here many years ago as a traditional man? The Elder said he had, and the indications were becoming stronger and stronger. For now he would allow his feelings and the Elder’s words to resonate within and keep walking the familiar track.
After half an hour they stopped for a drink, and Rob, who had internalised the incredible idea that he was a Western Aranda man in a previous life, had the urge to mention a favourite subject.
“I’ve collected a few legends about the Cosmos including one about Constellation Scorpius. It’s by Mountford and Roberts who introduced a lot of Aussies to Aboriginal legends. It’s fantastic how your culture tells stories about gigantic constellations. They’re vivid, spectacular journeys. Much more colourful than big bang theories about stars and planets. Here’s a taste,” Rob said, taking a folded piece of paper out of his shirt pocket.
The guilty boy initiate, his indiscreet lover and the elders who chased them into the sky, became stars in and near the Constellation. Hunting boomerangs thrown by angry elders formed part of its tail, and they’re still there in that starry scorpion rising above the eastern horizon on Winter nights.
“How’s that. What a fantastic way to bring the stars to life!”
“Yes, it’s beautiful. I know that story because it heralds the start of Winter. And it’s very entertaining, but the young law breakers had to be punished, so it’s a lesson for later generations,” the Elder added.
Rob looked into a brightening blue sky and marvelled at the setting moon, clearly defined just above distant purple hills. That night he expected to see the beauty of the Cosmos in all its splendour, lavishly decorated with precious gems.
The Elder caught Rob’s buoyant mood.
“Visitors come here and can’t believe how close the stars are. Imagine if they knew our stories, like you said earlier. The whole sky would come to life and they’d have a bigger idea of the Cosmos and the culture. They’d want to tell the world.”
Rob loved the Elder’s enthusiasm for his culture, and sensed his next words would relate to him.
“When the elder in Broome said to you... “that tree ... he’s my father” he spoke on many levels. He was song man and medicine man – high honours in traditional culture – and he knew life’s energies and dimensions. His reality is impossible to comprehend. Rare men like him were always consciously connected to the Spiritual Source.”
“That’s amazing,” Rob said, “He was a remarkable artist too. He’d sit and use lead pencils to sketch his stories into notebooks, then delicately paint them with watercolours. Bill was an encyclopedia of traditional knowledge and he’d chant all night with his boomerang clapsticks.”
“Yes Rob. I can see it,” the Elder added. “His knowledge is precious, but we’re losing those old law men, and that’s a loss for the whole nation.”
Rob wholeheartedly agreed and understood how privileged he was to be learning from the Elder. His appreciation reinforced how important it was to consciously live in the present. There was no time to waste. Western Aranda country was calling again.
5
The days Rob and the Elder spent together evolved their own easy rhythm. Sunrise and sunset varied the vibrations of each day without completely interrupting them. Around the men was a quiet, wise energy interwoven with daily activities and they sometimes lost track of time, the linear time measured by man-made clocks.
Another early morning saw them loading up the 4WD with enough supplies for a few days and heading out of town as the first birds acknowledged first light. The Elder felt alive in the fresh flush of morning and started their first conversation while tying a pair of mulga wood hunting boomerangs (ulperrenye) together with thick string.
“We’re going to a very special area, a hidden gorge hardly ever visited even in the old days. You’ll be the first whitefella to see it!”
The Elder emphasised his last sentence like he rarely had before, and Rob was stunned.
“What?” He almost shouted, as much to the Universe as the Elder, sensing that this day and the next couple were going to be profoundly memorable.
“You know the importance of sites, so you’re ready for deeper information. In life we have blood family and interact with many other people, but each person lives a unique spiritual journey. You and I have special roles this lifetime because we were connected before, but I’ll talk more later. There’s a lot in front of us today.”
They turned off the bitumen road on to a dirt and gravel track and the desert oaks and mulga trees began thinning out. After reaching a rocky outcrop at the end of a ridge that angled off the West MacDonnells, the track narrowed. Rob eased the 4WD over increasingly sandy country, negotiating sections of bull dust, the powder-fine
