Goanna Story

Beewee 

Sean made his way down to Joseph’s camp. The old man listened with interest to Sean’s story.

‘That Campbell mob, when they first bin come into Bindaree country, they bring big mobs of sheep with them. My Ulwai, that my grandfather fella, he say they bin friendly to this Campbell and his family and workers. But then they start chasing off the Bindaree from our places. Them shepherd boys and men they bin steal our women, they foul up the waterholes and billabong, then they cut down our Bora Bora trees. When some young Bindaree Wundara go to talk with them they get shot. Big mob of white fella chase them with horses and gun, they kill them big. Bindaree hold talk, old fellas they talk a lot. Then they say no more of this Amerjig, we kill them all. They go round kill the sheep, kill them shepherd fellows, kill the horse, burn them yards too. Then they surround that place where that big house now stand, and let no one out or in. They stuck in there, all them white fella. We fight them long time, lot of them get sick and die. We kill everything they own. Then them trooper fella and black police fella they come up and we run away and hide. They search for us long time. We fight them, kill some, but they kill lot of Bindaree. After some time government fella come to Bindaree and say enough fighting, we tired we no longer want to fight also. We make agreement. They give us this sacred place here and reserves of land around here and they pay us with food and blankets. That when they give my grandfather that neck shield to wear. They call him King Joseph. That Campbell fella, he gets fat on our place, we get skinny. Then the lumpy sickness come and take big mobs of the Bindaree away. Now only few Bindaree, Tamba Tamba people round here. The sacred places no longer hear our voices. All this place change, lot of the brother, sister animals they bin gone like the Bindaree. Our dreamin places disappearing, young fella he no longer know the law. Nooralie maybe he bin think time for the Bindaree to go from this place. Maybe Tamba Tamba goes from this country, all this Billa Billa place here he bin die.’

The old man sighed and bowed his head. He relit his pipe and looked at the fire, staring deep into the coals. Sean poked at the fire with a stick.

After a while the old man said, ‘Maiyarare, it bin good that I know you and that you been picked out by Nooralie and marked by Dingarra. You bin learnin good about Bindaree country and show good manners and respect for this place. You be a smart fella, you learn easy. It maybe bin good for you to learn some from that Campbell fella. If it be true that Nooralie let Bindaree disappear from this place maybe you bin take care of it for him.’

‘Me?’ Sean whispered. What did Joseph think he could do? Did he know about Mr Campbell’s plans?

‘We all have to be little before we can be big,’ the old man laughed and slapped him gently on the back. ‘Let us make some of that damper and tea. Enough talkin. Maybe after we go and look for them goanna fella egg.’

After the damper they walked towards Gunpowder Island. The old man carried a gunny sack, a small shovel and a long piece of fencing wire. He loped along. Sean walked easily beside him.

‘This Beewee fella he special for Bindaree old time. He a male totem big time. Lot of them fella they not bin able to eat him or them eggs, but me, my family, he never bin in my family totem. In the dreamin he bin speak for the other fella animals to Nooralie and when the man split away from the animals. He have no fear this fella, he bin bite you he cause some serious injury. When I boy like you there be a lot more of these Beewee fella around and they grow lot bigger. When stand up, they tall as a man, now not so many around here, maybe they get no chance to grow.’

‘They lay eggs, right?’

‘Yep, they bin lay in burrow or hole filled with leaves and vegetation to keep warm. In the Marangani, that mean autumn, they lay eggs, and then hatch out in spring if lucky no fella like us get them.’ He laughed and relit his pipe. ‘They smart them fella Beewee, they like no other lizard or snake around here. When we see them lay their egg it bin time to get ready for the Kilpanie, winter time. If lay a lot it mean hard winter. Not many it gonna bin mild. If there bin many boy hatching more than girls it mean not good spring.’

‘Bloody hell, Joseph. How do you know all that stuff?’

‘Them Beewee fella, they our cousin. If you live sharing the same place you know them and what they do, they know what we do. In old time all this law and story about the animal pass on from old fella or women Bindaree to young ones. All time tellin story and remembering story, every day we bin talkin about this place and the story and animals of it. After a while it sticks to you, like damper on your fingers.’

They walked over the bridge and onto the island. The damp winter soil muffled their steps, the trees bowed to a brisk cold southerly and the weak sun threw pale shadows off the trees. They branched off the track where a small creek cut across it.

‘This Beewee, she smart girl, she make plenty of burrows but she leave some not covered, others she cover up before she go, these one she put her egg in. These Beewee like humans, both male and female they build the nest and for a little while protect it. Then they go away north for the winter time. When they come back it bin spring time. Bindaree then get ready for summer.’

They followed the creek down towards the river. The trees here were all red gums, big and twisted. Wide stumps left in the ground showed where the loggers had been. The old man turned off and climbed a knoll. These trees were mainly grey box, straight and tall, their bark tight and flaky. The old man leaned against one, caressing it with his hand.

‘This fella grey box, he also tell us when the winter to come. When he flower they bin white it time to get ready for the cold weather.’ Then he pointed to large burrows in the ground, two large ones and two smaller ones on the north facing side. ‘This bin where Beewee camp. He use this as his site, he have several like this, see mound at the start here of the tunnel this where she come out.’ He crouched beside the top entrance, running his hands over the smooth packed down earth. ‘She sit here a while warming up, this Beewee fella he never do anything much before thinking long time about it, that why it be good if men be a bit like them. In dreamin that why them animals they pick this Beewee for talkin to Nooralie and them other spirit fellas. This one here she a big girl, maybe six feet, big as me. But when these Beewee make up their mind about something they go straight for it, run over all things to get their job done. He never stop till he be finished, he never make big noise or maken any fuss, he just do the job. She clever this girl, under here she have a tunnel that stop just near the surface. If she bin trapped she quickly dig out and get away.’ Joseph walked over the site, every now and then stomping his foot. ‘Look over here youngem. This one of her blind tunnel places. Bend down. Hear the differences in the sound.’ The old man kept stomping his boots on the grey earth. ‘Hear the differences in the sound, hollow, solid.’

‘Yeh, she cunning, this Beewee, like you say, Ulwai.’

The old man looked at him. ‘Thank you, Maiyarare, for that kind word. I hopen I can be good for it.’

 Sean put his ear to the ground.

‘She not here now, she come back this place in warmer dryer time. But when she does we know how to trap her and then eat her. Good tucker, this mam, the grease good for all sort of bite and sting. We make soup out of the bone, good for achy belly. Them old fella say if use grease in hair never lose it. It work for me.’ He swept his hat off and ran his fingers through his hair and laughed. ‘We get some for you this spring time, maybe I think your father he bin start lose his hair. Yeh, I have some in my oorla, I bin put some in a tin for your father when we get there. If we be as useful as this Beewee fella we bin done good’. The old man bent to the ground. ‘Let’s find this girl’s eggs.’

They went down a slight slope, picking their way over fallen trees and the short grass of midwinter. The old man crouched low to the ground, stopping and looking, prodding the ground with his piece of wire. He felt the trunks as they passed. Finally about two hundred yards from the first burrows, he stopped at a small clearing.

‘Ah, we bin find here this nest for Beewee.’

Sean looked. There was nothing out of the usual.

‘Lookem, young fella. This place, see the tree here.’ The old man pointed to some faint scratch marks on the trunk. ‘Here that fella she bin climb here and watch, makem sure no stealer come to take her egg while her marks be fresh on the ground.  After while she go away, never see  young fella hatch. That where they bit different from us man fella, but maybe sometime I think it be good idea for us to copy Beewee in this also.’ They smiled together.

They went over to the clearing and squatted down. The old man muttered, ‘See here small indent in the ground under all this dead grass and stuff they drag in to cover nest. Here entrance they fill in with dirt. Maybe it be six or twelve feet long, it be full of grass.’ Joseph prodded along the ground with the fencing wire, the first bit was hard to get in but then it became easy as the wire went through the cavity beneath. He prodded along every foot or so, six or seven times, following the burrow beneath. Then  he said, ‘See no more burrow we at the end, we go back to middle of tunnel dig down and then we finden them egg.’

They retraced their steps until they were about half way along the tunnel. Joseph gave him the shovel. ‘Now, youngem, you dig carefully here down ’bout two feet and hit the burrow. Be careful. After that we find leaves and grass then them eggs.’

Sean slowly cleared away the covering debris and dug down slowly. The old man stood back and relit his pipe. Sean was soon down and into the burrow. The chamber was about three times as wide as the burrow itself and full of compacted grass, leaves and debris, just as the old man had said.

‘Alright, young fella. We go careful now.’ He bent down and slowly scooped out the debris. Soon he came across about thirty eggs lying in a bed of grass and leaves.

‘Wow,’ said Sean. ‘They’re beautiful.’ The eggs were light green and about the size of turkey eggs.

‘Now, youngem, we bin careful and remove about half, other half we leave for Beewee, so he not end.’ As he said this the old man closed his eyes and muttered, ‘an ungune Beewee yantel our ou an ungune Nooralie an ungune,’ and he spread his hands and palms outwards.

Sean knelt with him and closed his eyes also, and said a prayer thanking god for this bounty. He felt he was lifted up and light as air for a fleeting second. Then he opened his eyes. The old man was looking at him and smiling.

Sean whispered, ‘You said a prayer, grandfather.’

‘Yes, say thank you to Beewee and Nooralie.’

‘Me too.’

‘Yeh, it bin good to say thank you always for great spirit gift to us.’

Joseph reached down and gathered the eggs, one by one. He wrapped them in cloth from the gunny bag. When they had removed about half of them, they returned all the debris carefully and Sean replaced the earth.

‘We have feast tonight. The old ones say he who eat Beewee egg have strong way with women. Me too old to find out, you too young to know,’ he laughed.

At the camp the old man put half a dozen of the eggs wrapped in newspaper into a biscuit tin. ‘You takem home for your father, makem him strong for his job as man.’ Going into the hut, he soon came out with an old vegemite jar. He showed Sean the cloudy grease inside. ‘This here good for your father hair, maybe it still fall out but he feel better about it, if it does.’ Then he gave Sean a little bundle of kangaroo hide, fastened with a rawhide strap. ‘This here for your mother, and little sister girl, a gift from this old man. You bin said your mother bin strong on this Catholic religion same as Sister Louise.’

‘Yes.’

‘It bin for her to think about for that God Jesus fella.’ He pressed the gift into Sean’s hands.

‘But, Ulwai, this is too much.’

‘Worlba, worlba, you takem, it just a little thing. You bring me gift of young spirit self all time, these little thing is nothing to that.’ The old man sat in front of his fire. Sean looked at him, he looked at the trees all around. Blue wrens were out for the evening pickings and the Tamba Tamba were circling to land.

‘Thank you, grandfather, for today and the gifts.’ Then he hugged him.

Joseph smiled and returned the hug gently. ‘You head off now. I will seeya soon. Yant el ou ou, peace to you, Sean.’

Sean was home just before tea time. His father was out in the shed sharpening  lawn mower blades.

‘How was that Joseph bloke today?’

‘Great, dad. We went on a goanna egg hunt over at Gunpowder Creek.’ He pulled an egg out of the jam tin and unwrapped it.

‘Beautiful,’ his father said, dropping the file and taking one of the eggs. ‘Did you have to dig it up?’ He turned the egg over and over in his hands.

Sean told him about the search for the eggs.

‘Well,’ his dad finally said, ‘that bugger knows his stuff. We probably walk over these nests all day long not even knowing they are there.’

Sean handed his father the vegemite jar. His father held it up to see it in the light of the kerosene lamp. ‘You say this stuff helps your hair, and cures everything from scratches to ingrown toe nails? Well, between this and the eggs I should be the bloody most sought after man in Koonarook. It won’t be safe for me to walk down the street,’ he said. ‘Probably best not to tell your mum these are goanna eggs. You know what she’s like about such things.’

 

His mother and Katy were in the kitchen finishing off the icing on half a dozen sponges. His mother looked up as they came in.

‘Ah, good, I was just about to call you in. Tea’s ready. I’ll just finish here. The CWL is having a cake stall tomorrow.’

‘Sean brought home some eggs for you, Mary. From Joseph.’ He put the egg tin on the bench beside the cakes and opened its lid.

‘Wonderful, I’ve just about used up all the eggs on these sponges.’ Then she looked at the open tin and the green egg, out of its wrapping, on top. She picked it up. ‘It’s huge. And green. What sort of egg is this?’

His dad took it from her. ‘Geese egg, Mary. Very good for cakes and omelettes. I’ll have a couple in the morning.’ He winked at Sean.

‘Strange geese eggs,’ his mother frowned. ‘Anyway, they’ll be handy.’

Sean picked up the hide bundle. His mum was taking off her apron. ‘Mum,’ he said, ‘Joseph has sent you a gift.’

She stepped back. ‘Oh, Sean, what is it? In that dead animal thing!’ She backed further away, her face contorted.

His father looked around from where he was cleaning the dishes at the sink. ‘Ah, Mary!’ He grabbed the gift, ‘It’s just wrapped in some kangaroo hide. Do you want me to unwrap it for you?’

His mother kept backing away. Katy stopped sloshing her hands in the sink water and came to look. His father undid the hide thong and, laying the bundle on the table, he slowly unwrapped it. It revealed two little red gum statuettes of a mother holding a baby. His mother came back to the table. They crowded round to look at the little figures.

‘Beautiful Madonnas and child,’ his mother gasped. ‘Joseph did these?’

‘He’s always carving and whittling things down at his camp. There’s one for you and one for Katy.’

She picked up one of the little polished figures and looked at it carefully. ‘Oh, Sean, these must have taken hours and hours. How can I ever repay him?’

‘Joseph said they’re a gift for you and Katy. You don’t have to pay him. Dad got a jar of goanna oil.’

His mother looked at her husband, who did not return her gaze. She looked at the eggs on the bench, and smiled.

 

Excerpt From Kiss of the King Brown