The Songmaster (40 page)

‘So what kind of a bang do these people get for their bucks?’ asked Veronica.

‘The Wards’ tours are designed for movie stars, minor royalty, mega-rich businessmen. They want to try life on an Aussie cattle station, have a taste of the Crocodile Dundee experience, catch a record barramundi, buy some of the native art and fly back to civilisation,’ said Rowena. ‘It’s nothing to do with me. My group is just a one-off trip I arranged for a friend in Germany.’

‘So this art buying is the deal you’ve tried to set up with Max and Judy at Bungarra,’ said Alan tightly.

‘It’s a free world, buddy. It’s up to the artists who they want to sell their paintings to. These people have a lot of money to spend.’

‘Do these visitors know what they’re buying? Know anything about Kimberley art?’ asked Alan.

‘Does it matter? They’re willing to pay for a unique experience and pieces that are collectible. This is business, investment buying. They’ll hang it somewhere as a trophy of their latest little exotic jaunt. It’s how these people are. It’s different to what you people are on about. Art’s not really my scene, Alan. I’m more concerned with my film, and Ardjani.’

‘Ah, yes. The film you are going to give to the Barradja people,’ said Susan quietly.

‘It is for the Barradja. But it has to be held by someone like me or an institution.’

Susan continued her line of thought. ‘Surely that ownership would be with the investors. Who is backing your project?’

Rowena was getting annoyed. ‘They have asked to remain anonymous.’ She added, ‘They wanted to be sure I held total copyright as protection of their investment. It was always my intention to include the Barradja as stakeholders in the film project.’

Mick took up the next point, treading warily. ‘But as we understand the agreement you have with the Barradja elders, they are not included, and you retain the exclusive creative copyright to all their culture. Does that mean, for example, we can’t take photographs without breaching your copyright ownership?’

Rowena airily flicked a hand. ‘Sure you can take photos.’ She gave a brief smile. ‘You just can’t sell them! Without paying me, that is.’

Beth frowned. ‘No one takes photos without permission from the elders. And frankly, Rowena, I find the idea that you believe you hold the legal jurisdiction over what Barradja culture can be shown, written, spoken, used or exploited beyond belief.’

‘Hey, don’t start attacking me, Beth. They signed the contract. It’s all in writing.’

‘But they didn’t know what they were signing,’ snapped Beth.

Alistair stepped in as the two women confronted each other. ‘Perhaps that is a matter we should discuss. It seems to us inappropriate that you believe you have copyrighted an entire culture.’

‘Listen, you take it up with my lawyer. I hold the contract. I have a film crew coming here within the month. Ardjani told me he’d be getting all the old men and women in to perform sacred dances, so we can record them before they die.’

‘That’s a terrific plan, Rowena. But what are you going to do with the film – hand it over to the Barradja as a gift? Sell it? These sorts of corroborees and ceremonies can’t be seen by just anyone. And the Barradja can’t pay for it.’ Beth was getting angrier, the frustration showing in her voice.

‘I have a business arrangement with the Barradja. Business is business, baby. But don’t write me off as an exploiter. I have some sense of where to draw the line. That’s why I’m here.’ Rowena stormed off towards the Barradja camp.

‘Well, she’s a smart Hollywood babe,’ said Susan.

‘I’d really like to know what her plans are for this film she’s making,’ said Veronica. ‘It’s a heck of a good opportunity to record this stuff. And if the people are getting old and the way things are changing, perhaps some of this culture might die out. Why can’t some philanthropic
Australian outfit fund the thing for the national archives or something?’

‘A Barradja museum and cultural centre! That’s what we need,’ said Mick.

‘Can you see Rowena handing over the chance to go back to the US with all this brilliant, unique film footage and setting herself up as the new Margaret Mead? I don’t care what she says. She’s out to make a quid at the expense of these innocent people. She’s a vampire.’ Beth was furious and it suddenly struck Susan that Beth was as protective of her rights and involvement with the Barradja as Rowena.

Beth headed to the river for a calming swim and Veronica gave a soft chuckle of surprise. ‘That’s the first time I’ve seen Beth lose her cool.’

‘Rowena is probably the only person who can rattle Beth and get a negative reaction like that. Interesting,’ mused Susan.

Mick handed Alistair a mug of fresh tea and they settled themselves in chairs away from everyone else.

‘I don’t know about you, but I reckon this little cultural exercise of ours is turning into a drama with more sub plots than
War and Peace.
How innocent do you think the elders really are?’

Alistair sipped his tea. ‘Ardjani and Rusty are smart and wily fellows if you ask me. I don’t
think they were legally aware of what they were doing, and who knows how she put the deal to them. But I bet they see it differently to Rowena. They agreed to the film project in the belief it was helping their people.’

‘Agreed. But the fact they got into such negotiations concerns me. One minute they are sitting in the Kimberley being wise tribal elders, the next they’re trading contracts with big-city wheeler dealers.’

‘And now they want us to sort it out, without losing face, or offending Rowena. A tricky, even delicate, line to walk.’

‘We may be in the scrub, but I can see this developing into a major scrap.’

The two legal men were quiet, each chewing over the ramifications of a potential case, each enjoying the mental challenge.

‘You’d have to make the decision to wear your heart on your sleeve if you took this on,’ ventured Mick.

Alistair paused before speaking, measuring his words. ‘I do believe I am willing to make a public commitment to help these people and what they espouse. I’ve never become emotionally involved in a case, you know. I learnt not to do that very early in my career. But here, I find I’m questioning where I stand on a number of matters.’

‘Join the club,’ said Mick. ‘Do you suppose it’s because we’re here, in the thick of it? Rather than having that protective desk between the client and us.’

‘Possibly. These aren’t normal circumstances,’ agreed Alistair. ‘I keep wishing I was younger, something I never usually worry about.’

‘Me either. Though the old men around here have proved age doesn’t beat you. Much fitter than thee and me, well me anyway.’

Alistair touched his right knee which had been giving him trouble since the walk to the rock paintings. ‘On bad days, these damn knees make me feel like I’m ninety.’

Mick was quiet for a moment. ‘I reckon you should speak to Jennifer. Wouldn’t surprise me if she came up with something that might help.’

Billy jumped down from the Oka. ‘Hey, it’s good phone reception. Beth is talking to the welfare lady to see how the baby in Melbourne is doing. Anyone else want to make a call?’

Veronica spoke to Boris, closing the door of the Oka for privacy as she tried to explain to her man back in the city that the Aboriginal women were going to show her how to make a baby, thousands of miles away from its father. He was bemused but, as usual, he was supportive of anything she wanted to do.

Susan was next. ‘Billy, can I make a quick call? To my friend, Andrew, at Yandoo Station?’

‘Righto. At least that’s closer,’ said Billy as Susan dialled the number.

‘Hello . . . Ian, how are you? It’s Susan Massey, can I speak to Andrew, please? Over.’

‘We’re fine, thank you. He’s right here. How’re those people treating you? Sick of witchetty grubs and mosquitoes? Over.’

‘This is even more fascinating than I imagined. I wish you were all here, Ian. We’ve met some of the pastoralists, they’re fairly new to the land. They don’t seem to have the same understanding of it as your family. Over.’

‘If you’re new to the game, you either make a go of it or get out. But they’re in poor country out there. And I don’t envy them their problems with the tribes. Anyway, here’s Andrew. Good luck. It was nice meeting you. Over.’

‘Susan, how’s the little princess of the never-never doing? I’ve been thinking about you. Over.’

‘Andrew, it’s incredible. So much is going on. It’d take hours to tell you. How’re things with you? Over.’

‘Pretty quiet. I’ve been wondering how you were doing. How about I come over? I’ve done a bit of homework. I could fly into a nearby property, The Avenue, if they say okay. Find out if it’s all right for me to join you all? I mean, I’d love to see you. Over.’

‘I’d love you to come out here. I’ll have to check with the Barradja and the others. You’ll love it. I’ll get back to you. Over.’

‘It’s you I want to see. But whatever. I’ll stay around the house. Call me as soon as you can. Over and out.’

It was quickly agreed to and Susan was surprised at how excited she was at the prospect of seeing Andrew again. She wanted him to share this experience. To see and learn how the Barradja lived, so different from what she’d briefly seen of the ‘Yandoo mob’.

They had finished tidying camp when Ardjani, Digger and Rusty came over, trailed by Josh and Luke. The men held a discussion with Beth who then clapped her hands and announced. ‘Okay. Plan for the day. You blokes are going hunting. We expect a magnificent feast tonight.’

‘And what are you sheilas going to gather?’ Mick gave her an inquiring look.

‘Never you mind, Judge Duffy. We’re doing women’s business.’

‘What’s this involve?’ asked Susan. ‘Anything physically or mentally challenging? No Oprah soul baring, or stuff like that?’

‘It can be whatever we want. Lilian and Jennifer will guide us. However, we might do some gathering as well, just in case the hunters return empty-handed.’

‘But the Barradja are pros at hunting, we’ll be right,’ said Mick.

‘Maybe they won’t be so successful when accompanied by a bunch of rank amateurs,’ declared Veronica.

‘Let’s wait and see what’s on the menu
tonight, shall we?’ Mick went off to join the other men.

Alan had wandered over to the Barradja camp and sought out Rowena. ‘I was wondering if I could talk to you about this art junket.’

‘I figured you might.’

‘It’s certainly not my preferred way of selling art. It’s important that people of this calibre, who can afford it, get the very best.’

‘And why wouldn’t they? The top artists are at Bungarra.’

‘Yes, but all their major works go to my gallery. The works they sell outside are relatively insignificant pieces, they’re painted quickly and they don’t contain meaningful stories.’

‘These guys won’t know the difference.’

‘Not now. But if they’re investment pieces they will one day.’

Rowena was silent for a moment, considering this, and Alan continued, ‘Look, I know you’re probably going to say what the heck. If this is a one-off deal and you’re not planning to make a habit of it. But Mick and Alistair are right. There’s going to be a lot more of this. So why don’t you and I come to an arrangement where I agree your buyers can purchase quality, collectible pieces from my gallery collection and I get the usual commission as do the artists and Max and Judy? That way you can sleep easy, you’ve done the right thing, the reputation of
Bungarra art isn’t damaged, and the buyers get the best on offer.’

Rowena gave a shrug. ‘It really doesn’t matter that much to me. But there is someone in the group buying for an important collector and it would be bad news, I guess, if he felt he hadn’t received the best quality for his money.’ She stuck out her hand. ‘Sure. We have a deal. Why not.’

As Alan shook hands, he couldn’t help feeling he was selling a little of his soul to the devil. But if he didn’t make a stand now, word would get out and there’d be others, not so scrupulous, who would be quick to take his place. And, as Rowena was fond of saying, ‘business is business’.

The departure of the hunters was duly recorded. Rusty, Digger and Ardjani posed cheerfully beside Barwon, Mick and Alistair. Hunter and Billy had chosen to stay behind and work on their vehicles. Veronica and Susan snapped photographs, noting that the white hunters looked distinctly uncomfortable. Barwon also looked uneasy, holding a spear he had no idea how to use, the whites with rifles they secretly hoped would not have to be fired.