Doctor Wooreddy's Prescription for Enduring the End of the World. Mudrooroo

Doctor Wooreddy's Prescription for Enduring the End of the World - Mudrooroo


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animals, because they belonged to the land, could be eaten along with crayfish, penguins, seals and shellfish. The blubber provided the best oil for smearing the body and catamarans. After one came ashore and was eaten, the giant cradle of bones was flung back into the sea, not as an offering, but in contempt and defiance – to show Ria Warrawah that land animals would never belong to him.

      Although Wooreddy went to the whaling station to get some of the flesh which the ghosts flung away, he took care that his woman did not go with him. Trugernanna and the other island women went there for both food and excitement. They often spent days at the station and when they finally came back to the camp, they carried with them ghost food. Mangana liked this food and had even begun to smoke the strange herb, tobacco, which his daughter had shown him how to use. He wore over his body a large soft skin which had been given to Trugernanna. He wore this as a sigh of surrender and urged Wooreddy to do the same. The num were provoked by a naked body so much so that they often killed it. Num skins protected a person and if one continued to go naked one courted death. With such a choice before him, Wooreddy took to wearing a blanket.

      The ghosts had twisted and upturned everything, Wooreddy thought one day as he went a step further and accepted a num skin from a ghost he found with his wife. This did not upset him much as the woman had so increased her demands on him that he had found himself a typical Bruny Islander saddled with a foreign wife. He still consoled himself with the thought that it was the times, and the num skin did hide his manhood scars. Not so very long ago, Wooreddy had prided himself on showing the serried rows of arc-shaped scars which showed the degrees of initiation he had passed. Now they had lost all meaning, just as all else had lost meaning. Such alienation brought lassitude and the sudden panic fear that his soul was under attack. To counter this, he pushed his way into the depths of a thicket and made a circular clearing while muttering powerful protection spells. Then he built a small fire in a pit in the centre of the circle, heated a piece of shell in the smoke and opened a number of his scars with it. Blood drops fell towards the flames. Anxiously he watched each drop hiss into steam before touching any of the burning brands. This was good: his spells potent and protection assured. Lighting a firestick in order to preserve the strong life of this fire, he took it back and thrust it into the main campfire. His wife was still absent at the whaling station.

      Lunna finally returned from the embraces of the num. She carried a bag in which twists of cloth held flour, tea and sugar. Already she had learnt to boil the dark leaves in a shell-like container which did not catch fire and to make ‘damper’ by mixing the white powder with water and spreading it on hot coals. Wooreddy found that he liked the tea especially when some of the white sand-like grains were added, but the damper stuck in his throat. He preferred seafood, when he could get it, for sometimes when he ordered his wife to go and get some she appeared not to hear. Her large dark eyes would cling to whatever she was doing and she would ignore him. Once when he asked her she continued eating a piece of damper and he took up his spear and felt the tip. It was blunt. He went to the shelter for a sharp piece of stone, then remembered the hatchet and got that instead.

      After sharpening his spear, he waddled off to the hunt without a word to his wife. She watched his bottom wobbling off into the bush and smiled. It was one of the things that had attracted her to him. It added a touch of humour which helped to soften his stiff formality of manner. They had had a good relationship, but not as deep as it could have been. Perhaps it was because he belonged to a nation noted for their stiffness. She sighed and began thinking of the num.

      Wooreddy, not thinking of his wife or his problems, began prowling towards a clearing which had been maintained for a long time and was still not overgrown. With his senses straining for the slightest movement or sound, he achieved a state of blissful concentration which smothered all disagreeable thought. In the clearing three large grey kangaroos hunched, nibbling at the tufts of grass. He crouched behind the trunk of a tree, thanking Great Ancestor that the wind blew in his face, though as a good hunter he had allowed for this. Wooreddy inched forward. One of the animals lifted a delicate face to peer his way. He stopped and after a few moments the animal bent its back to eat the grass. The stalking continued until Wooreddy judged himself close enough to risk a spear throw. Slowly he lifted his leg to take the shaft from between his big toe. Ever so slowly his arm rose as his leg descended at an angle to support his throw. With a lightning-fast stroke, which contrasted with his previous slowness, his spear flashed toward the prey. The force of the blow sent it sprawling onto its side. It leapt up and tried to bound away. It managed only a stagger. The long spear aborted its bound. The kangaroo recovered enough to hop away. Wooreddy trotted after the animal.

      In the sudden joy at his success, he had forgotten his club, but no matter. He ran on in his curious duck-like gait which appeared clumsy but was effective. He quickly came upon the animal. It turned to face its pursuer with its back protected by the trunk of a thick tree. Wooreddy picked up a piece of wood as he circled the animal. At bay, it was dangerous. One sudden upward rip of a hind leg could disembowel him. If only he had a companion such as Mangana! Alone, he devised a tactic and ran straight at the kangaroo. At the very last moment he bounded to the left. Animals were like human beings and usually favoured the right side – but not always. He breathed a sigh of relief as the animal brought up its right leg. A fatal move: before the animal could recover he had bashed the thick stick down upon its nose, then belted it on one side of the neck. Wooreddy flung the carcass across his shoulder and took it back to camp. He would feed his sons real food, and not that white junk their mother too often served up.

      IV

      The island and the people continued to suffer. The darkness of the night-hidden land allied itself with the hidden, green, deep fears of the ocean. Wooreddy could feel it lapping about his middle and touching him with chilly fingers, cold as the white wetness he had once felt in the inland mountains. What had that been called? turrana. Now always he could taste salt on his lips and deep down his throat. The sea had invaded his body! Th is knowledge hit him one day as he was about to step on a snake which had no right to be on the snake-free island. His foot hit the ground a metre from the coiled black body in a rush of fear imagining a hissing death. Ria Warrawah had extended the boundary of his domain to include Bruny Island. He knew this for certain as he watched the coughing demon attack the few remaining people. Ria Warrawah sucked up souls and amid the vast sighing danger what could he do but chant the old protection spells, gash into his body extra-potent strength marks, carry about relics of the long dead, and hope – hope and watch the sun rise on another cloudy day of hopelessness? Day fell into day, and his numbness became a kangaroo-skin bag to hold his ever-growing panic. He told himself over and over again that he was destined to be a survivor – but, as he cast a glazed eye over the half-dozen people still alive and suffering, even his survival came into question. To survive, yes – but into what future? It lay ahead of him as dead as a fish tossed from the ocean. Automatically, he stared at the sea as he tried to imagine that his life – though not the old traditions giving it shape and meaning – would continue on aimlessly. He sighed and stared bleakly at the num crawling like insects on the very body of the devil. Behind him he heard the coughing demon acknowledge the sigh of the ocean. The demon hacked at his wife’s chest and he could do nothing. She might eject the demon, but the odds were against it. For some reason he thought of the female, Trugernanna and this caused his mood to lift a little. She would never come to a quick end. The boat pointed in their direction. Its wooden legs swayed the body from side to side. She was every bit a survivor as he himself was. The num were coming to them. She would go on and on, just as he would go on, until the end.

      In the bow of the boat a num stood and, although his body swayed unsteadily, he still managed to impart to it an attitude of eagerness and readiness for action. Wooreddy watched uncaringly. Most num sat in their boats, this one did not – so what! Still, as the boat entered the surf, he felt an urge to flee into the safety of the bush. He stayed where he was examining the crew. He saw no killing sticks. This relieved him enough to wait to see what the boat would bring.

      The bottom of the boat touched the ground. This was instantly followed by a shouted order from the now-sprawling num at the grey-clad crew who grinned as they shipped their oars. At last, obeying the order, they slipped into the surf and manhandled the craft to dry sand. The head ghost scrambled up, assumed his dignity


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