The Songmaster (60 page)

‘I never thought I’d hear a son of mine say that.’ He spoke without rancour, but there was confusion in his voice.

Susan turned to Andrew. ‘You should suggest Julian go to the first Bush University.’

‘Yeah, he’d enjoy that. He’d get a lot out of it.’

Two nights later, Susan stood gazing at the portraits of the Frazer family when Ian came alongside her. ‘The family history. Seems pretty tenuous compared to your mates. You reckon they’ve been here a hundred thousand years? Makes our two hundred years seem paltry, eh?’

‘It’s what we do with our time while we’re here that counts, I think, Ian.’

‘What are you going to do with your time, Susan? What’re your plans now?’

‘To be honest, I’m not sure.’

‘Andrew fit into those plans at all?’

‘I just don’t know. I need to go home and clear my head.’

‘It’s not my business, I know. But I like you, young lady. You’ll always be a welcome guest at Yandoo.’

He only knew how to be formal, but she heard the sincerity in his voice and she lightly touched his arm.

‘Thank you. That’s a lovely thing to say.’

The imminent issue facing Susan was the future of her relationship with Andrew. And then came the time, as it had to, when it had to be addressed. They were on a picnic, back at their favourite place on the top of the hill overlooking
Yandoo, when he put the question to her. ‘So where do we go from here?’

‘I have a job to go back to . . . I think. I can’t say at the moment other than you are special to me, as is the Kimberley now.’

‘You’ll go through a culture shock when you hit Sydney. Be prepared for that. I won’t hassle you . . . for a few weeks, anyway. I’ll miss you, Susan.’

‘Me too. It’s been a strange sort of journey I’ve been on.’

‘I set out to court you and ended up travelling with you. And I don’t regret it,’ he added quickly. ‘I’ve learned a lot. But I still haven’t given up on you. Give me a chance . . . please?’

She reached over and kissed him. ‘I’ll be back. That’s for sure.’

And in the quiet reaches and chasms of red earth and sienna rocks, Ardjani sat by the cave that held the skull, restored to his ancestors, which had been sent across the sea from far away.

This land, his people’s country, was watched over by the fading images of the Wandjina. He smiled to himself as, head tilted slightly, he contemplated the echo of the Songmaster’s song cycle . . . a change was coming to this land.

T
here was a new airstrip at Boulder Downs. A slash of welcoming red dirt carpet leading to the road that led to the homestead. A freshly painted sign that hung above the small shed that served as office, fuel store, spare parts and garage for two four-wheel drives read, ‘Welcome to Boulder Downs, home of Bush University.’

They tumbled from the plane, shading their eyes in the glare. This was the last of the arrivals for the inaugural session at Bush University. Norma Jackson, clipboard in hand, checked off names and pointed to the waiting safari bus. The last two off the plane were young men, apprehensive and looking not too keen to be part of this.

Norma gave the teenagers a big smile. ‘Tom and Sean Beckridge? Shareen’s sons, right? Hop in the van. Okay, Hunter.’

‘Righto. Hey, guys, throw the backpacks in there.’ They looked slightly relieved to see someone younger, who seemed to speak as they did, even if he was an Aborigine.

Norma addressed the five people in the vehicle as Hunter headed up the track. ‘First night, you’ll be here in the homestead with the other six guests. Tomorrow morning, Beth Van Horton and Daniel Ardjani will meet you after breakfast for a brief orientation and take you to a sacred site for the welcoming ceremony. Then Hunter will drive you over to the Barradja camp at Marrenyikka.’ She gave Hunter a smile. ‘There’s a small contingent already there. They’re the people who helped get Bush University established. This is something of a reunion for them.’

It was more a party than a mere reunion. Familiar faces smiled around the campfire and, being passed from arm to lap was tiny Lily, the daughter of Veronica and Boris, a serious baby who contemplated the world with a deep and meaningful expression of three-month wisdom. Boris and Rusty were deep in conversation about cooking kangaroos. Lilian held her grandson, while his mother Jennifer cuddled Djoobalong, known as Sunny, the laughing-eyed daughter of Barwon. Now trying to walk and starting to say single words, she had been adopted into the Barradja family since Beth had
brought her home to her people, after tearful goodbyes from Joyce and the welfare carers in Victoria.

Tomorrow she would join the official smoking of Lily, returning to be dipped in the wunggud waters from whence her spirit had come.

Around the campfire there was much news to share. Alan Carmichael told them of the exhibition of the Bungarra cooperative being mounted in Chicago and then in Paris to follow the hugely successful UNESCO rock art symposium. Ardjani, Digger and Lucky Dodds would be going with Daisy Moorroo, just returned from New York where her delicate paintings of the Kimberley country were hailed as the new art find.

And there were plans afoot for a film project to record the songs, dances, art and stories of the Barradja under the auspices of Bush University, the Barradja Foundation and the National Cultural and Heritage Centre. Alistair explained how the Barradja Foundation was a cultural exercise that could serve as a beacon for future exchanges between Australians and the rest of the world.

‘I believe we are reaching a moment in our history when we can accept that the indigenous peoples and the multicultural – who include we Celts, Poms, Europeans and Asians who have settled here in the past two centuries – can all be
called Australian. Thanks to small but significant enterprises like Bush University, these faltering first steps will lead us into the next thousand years as a nation that celebrates all its people and the land we share.’

Veronica nudged Susan. ‘Do you lawyers talk like that at breakfast too? Why can’t you just say, pass the salt?’

Susan grinned. ‘Heck no. We get paid by the word, don’t you know! The more obtuse the better!’

‘Good girl, Susan, you’ve learned the ropes,’ chuckled Mick on the other side of her.

‘I shall not make another speech. Pass the billy.’ Alistair attempted to look miffed.

‘Is Andrew coming?’ asked Billy.

‘He said so. He’s bringing his brother, Julian.’

‘Do we ask about the Susan and Andrew association?’ asked Beth with arched eyebrow.

‘You can ask, but there’s nothing much to say. It’s been a busy year.’ Susan looked around. ‘Well, you might as well know . . . I’ve quit my job.’

‘And . . .?’

‘Beth, you’re the one who’s always saying see what tomorrow brings.’

‘Give us a clue, Susan . . . are you looking at your tomorrows in Sydney . . . the Kimberley . . . New York . . . Yandoo . . .?’

‘Give me a break, Mick! You sound like Mr Angel, who was pretty disappointed I was leaving
Angel and Hart. No, I have no plans. I’m taking a break first. I’m hoping I might be able to offer my services to Bush University, or the Barradja, in some legal capacity.’

‘Bully for you.’ Mick was instantly supportive.

‘You’re a brave girl. You have my admiration and will have my full attention any time you wish to bounce an idea off this greying noggin,’ offered Alistair, but beneath his attempt at flippancy, Susan was pleased to see the fond warmth in his eyes.

‘I’ve been studying law or working as a solicitor since I left school. I think I’ve earned time out,’ said Susan. ‘As for Andrew, he’s given up proposing . . . for the time being, anyway.’

First light drifted quietly into the camp in the early morning. Damp, motionless leaves were touched with a pearly sheen. Stars faded, shreds of mist trailed above the rocky outcrops, no footprints had yet imprinted on the dewy ground. Birds began to call.

Susan unzipped her tent, enjoying the sound that would always herald a new day to her. Stepping into the dawn she thought she was first up, but the distant breaking of twigs told her Billy was out getting fire kindling. Slipping into her shoes, she walked past the ring of tents into the scrubby bush and to her delight found the brolgas, dancing, bowing, gently courting as the pale gold light crept through the trees.

She found Billy. ‘Want a hand?’ she whispered. He handed her a sack. ‘Great. You get the small kindling stuff, I’ll get a couple of those bigger branches.’

‘It’s great to be back here, isn’t it? I thought about mornings like this when I was stuck on Victoria Road trying to get to the city to work.’

‘You bet. I’ve done a few interesting trips in the past year, but nothing like coming here.’

‘Did you ever think Bush University would happen?’

‘I see plenty of groups form friendships while travelling in the bush and then everyone goes their own way. I thought our mob last year would be the same. But then I thought about the people . . . you, the old lawyers, Veronica, Alan and Beth, you’re a pretty impressive bunch.’ He snapped a large dead branch in half. ‘Of course, Rowena and Barwon made a difference.’

‘Is it the place or the people you remember best, Billy? Ardjani, Jennifer, Lilian, and the old men . . . they’re pretty special.’

‘The people and the place are the same in my book.’

‘So you’ll be organising trips for every Bush University, eh, Billy?’ They headed back to camp.

‘Beth reckons there’ll be three or four sessions lasting two weeks each winter. I’ll organise transport from Kununurra and logistics here at Marrenyikka. Hunter and Norma are running the other end at Boulder Downs. We’re
starting to get inquiries from people overseas now. That radio program Veronica did was played in England and America.’

‘She says she might write a book next. But I think baby Lily is her main focus for the moment.’

‘Yeah. Boris seems a nice bloke. Said he was a bit sceptical about this baby business when she got back. But even after two days here, he reckons he can see how anything’s possible!’

‘I’m looking forward to seeing Hunter,’ said Susan. ‘Andrew said the reunion with his mother and family was wonderful.’

‘His business in Darwin is going good, he’s got a nice girlfriend there. A nurse, I think she is.’

‘Andrew is flying into Boulder Downs and coming out with Hunter and the first Bush Uni mob, I can’t wait to see him.’

The camp fire crackled, Alan unzipped his tent and the stubble-chinned and sleepy-eyed art expert headed for the fire. A baby’s cry came from Boris and Veronica’s tent. Mick was at the fire making toast and Billy had bacon and sausages sizzling, the breakfast smells attracting a gaggle of kids from the Barradja camp.

And so, in the bright light of a shining mid morning, a procession headed to the river.

Close to the wunggud pond, two mothers waded into the water carrying their naked babies. The Barradja and their guests settled on the bank as Lilian began singing, tapping her clapsticks together, and the elders joined in.

Veronica followed Jennifer’s gentle swirling motion as they dipped the babies through the water. Sunny wiggled her arms and legs in the warm water and gurgled in delight while Lily kept her attention trustingly on her mother’s face.

The song ended and the women carried the babies from the water, as they had been told to do beforehand. Ardjani had a fire burning and all the women now sat in a circle around the flames.

Lilian fanned the fire, dropping green leaves into it, which exuded a cloud of pungent smoke. Jennifer and Veronica knelt by the flames and, holding the baby girls over the warmth of the swirling smoke, they rocked them in a gentle rhythm.

Lilian called on the spirits to protect and guide these girl babies, born from this place of their ancestors, where one day their spirits would return after death.

‘This is your home place, your country. Your people which will always be part of you.’

Tears sprang to Susan’s eyes as she watched the joy on Veronica’s face. She saw Boris, smiling through his curly beard, his eyes glowing with pride.

As Jennifer laughed at the mischievous little girl who thought this was a new game her skin mother and grandmother were playing with her, Susan felt a stab of sadness. As she watched the confident child giggling in the arms of Jennifer, she prayed Barwon was here in spirit, in this land of his ancestors and his people who had been lost and now were found.