Read Online The Thousand Smiles of Nicholas Goring by Julie Bozza - Free Book Online
Authors: Julie Bozza
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right." A few minutes later he tipped a farewell nod to them, and headed out.
Dave sighed. "Come on, then," he said to the others. "Let's get checked in to the hotel."
Dave and Charlie had been here many times before. Once or twice a year, they came to the reserve, sat in a circle with the Elders and anyone else who happened to be there that day, and they spoke when they were spoken to but otherwise held their peace.
No one ever raised the matter of Charlie knowing the Dreaming songs for the waterhole when actually he shouldn't, nor about him having had the audacity to then pass them on to a white fella. Charlie had gone on his own to tell them that news, seven years ago now, and had reported that the circle of men and women had all talked and talked until everyone understood, and then they'd fallen quiet as they'd pondered the situation. There had been no conclusions reached, no judgement given.
Dave had gone to the reserve with Charlie a tactful month or so later, half-knowing that he should be forbidden from the sacred site, half-expecting to be quizzed or harassed about it all, but of course that wasn't the Murri way. Everyone still seemed to be taking it in and trying to work out what to think about the matter. Later he wondered if the Elders had decided on a ‘wait and see' approach. None of the Murri spoke against him and Charlie keeping the songs alive, or at least not in Dave's hearing. Perhaps they, like Charlie, took the pragmatic view that the important thing was that the songs be sung, that the Earth's energies be renewed, that the relationship between land and people be maintained.
And so, in the ‘eternal now' or ‘everywhen' of Indigenous thinking, the Elders were pondering – and in Dave's white-fella view, time passed, and the whole thing became a fait accompli. Which was fine by Dave, and if it could have lasted through decades until it was finally time to find someone else to learn the songs, that would have been great. But it seemed that gubbah business – white-fella stuff – was going to intrude whether they were ready or not.
That day, Nicholas and Robin went to join the sociable mob which was gathered in front of the local store. They were soon sharing a drink and a jovial yarn with a range of people of all ages, all colours. After a few moments to make sure they were going to be okay, however, Dave and Charlie headed for the quieter group who were sitting in a loose circle under the shade of a huge red gum. There was a space that would fit the two of them and, as they approached, one of the Elders nodded – whether that was coincidental or not, Dave nodded a greeting, and he and Charlie settled cross-legged on the ground.
It was peacefully quiet in the circle, at just enough distance from the other mob that they couldn't make out specific words amidst the general talk – at least not until there was a scandalised "No way!" from Robin, which caused much merriment. Dave could make out Nicholas's laugh amidst the rest, which made him smile, and he exchanged a fond glance with Charlie.
Eventually, when there was a lull in the thoughts and meandering words of the group, Dave quietly asked, "May I talk to you, please? About the waterhole, about the Dreaming site where the Barcoo grunter sleeps." He didn't use the place's proper name, or the Ancestor's, even in this company. Neither did he have to explain further. It wasn't as if they didn't all know, even if they'd never spoken to him about it.
The lull became something more attentive, and a few of the others exchanged quiet words between themselves. After a while Dave sensed that he was welcome to continue, and Charlie murmured, "Yeah, go on."
"It's a very beautiful place," Dave surprised himself by saying. "It's precious. The water in the pool … it's like a jewel. The colours are so vivid … The layers of rock are red, and there's the green of the eucalypts, the gold of the wattle when it flowers. There are the butterflies,
Dave sighed. "Come on, then," he said to the others. "Let's get checked in to the hotel."
Dave and Charlie had been here many times before. Once or twice a year, they came to the reserve, sat in a circle with the Elders and anyone else who happened to be there that day, and they spoke when they were spoken to but otherwise held their peace.
No one ever raised the matter of Charlie knowing the Dreaming songs for the waterhole when actually he shouldn't, nor about him having had the audacity to then pass them on to a white fella. Charlie had gone on his own to tell them that news, seven years ago now, and had reported that the circle of men and women had all talked and talked until everyone understood, and then they'd fallen quiet as they'd pondered the situation. There had been no conclusions reached, no judgement given.
Dave had gone to the reserve with Charlie a tactful month or so later, half-knowing that he should be forbidden from the sacred site, half-expecting to be quizzed or harassed about it all, but of course that wasn't the Murri way. Everyone still seemed to be taking it in and trying to work out what to think about the matter. Later he wondered if the Elders had decided on a ‘wait and see' approach. None of the Murri spoke against him and Charlie keeping the songs alive, or at least not in Dave's hearing. Perhaps they, like Charlie, took the pragmatic view that the important thing was that the songs be sung, that the Earth's energies be renewed, that the relationship between land and people be maintained.
And so, in the ‘eternal now' or ‘everywhen' of Indigenous thinking, the Elders were pondering – and in Dave's white-fella view, time passed, and the whole thing became a fait accompli. Which was fine by Dave, and if it could have lasted through decades until it was finally time to find someone else to learn the songs, that would have been great. But it seemed that gubbah business – white-fella stuff – was going to intrude whether they were ready or not.
That day, Nicholas and Robin went to join the sociable mob which was gathered in front of the local store. They were soon sharing a drink and a jovial yarn with a range of people of all ages, all colours. After a few moments to make sure they were going to be okay, however, Dave and Charlie headed for the quieter group who were sitting in a loose circle under the shade of a huge red gum. There was a space that would fit the two of them and, as they approached, one of the Elders nodded – whether that was coincidental or not, Dave nodded a greeting, and he and Charlie settled cross-legged on the ground.
It was peacefully quiet in the circle, at just enough distance from the other mob that they couldn't make out specific words amidst the general talk – at least not until there was a scandalised "No way!" from Robin, which caused much merriment. Dave could make out Nicholas's laugh amidst the rest, which made him smile, and he exchanged a fond glance with Charlie.
Eventually, when there was a lull in the thoughts and meandering words of the group, Dave quietly asked, "May I talk to you, please? About the waterhole, about the Dreaming site where the Barcoo grunter sleeps." He didn't use the place's proper name, or the Ancestor's, even in this company. Neither did he have to explain further. It wasn't as if they didn't all know, even if they'd never spoken to him about it.
The lull became something more attentive, and a few of the others exchanged quiet words between themselves. After a while Dave sensed that he was welcome to continue, and Charlie murmured, "Yeah, go on."
"It's a very beautiful place," Dave surprised himself by saying. "It's precious. The water in the pool … it's like a jewel. The colours are so vivid … The layers of rock are red, and there's the green of the eucalypts, the gold of the wattle when it flowers. There are the butterflies,
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