Alma Cabassi shares her experience of living with Aboriginal Communities in the Kimberley and hearing how they found water even in severe drought.
A Dreamtime creation story . . .
In the Dreamtime two sisters, Mundurr and Gingarrayi came down from the hills to Gulyawurrdjaru (Banana Springs). In their coolamons they carried seeds. They also carried their firesticks with them. These two sisters were Nungurrayi.
There was no water at Gulyawurrdjaru — nothing, only a big rock. The sisters ground their seeds into flour and made johnny cakes. They decided to cook them. Before this, Aboriginal people had never cooked their johnny cakes. They made a fire with their fire sticks and put the johnny cakes on to cook.
All of a sudden, the johnny cakes burst into flames.* There was a great noise and explosion and there was light all around. The sisters were frightened and hung on to each other. They were burned to death and turned into two trees. The fire spread. It went under the ground. It was a special Dreamtime fire. It burst through the ground again in several places. Every place where the fire came up there is a water soak.
* I was told by one of the senior men some years ago that the johnny cakes exploded because the women had mixed in some different seeds.
This is a foundational story that is told to visitors arriving at Ringer Soak (or Ring of Soaks) Yaruman in the Kimberley. This Community is located 170 kms southeast of Halls Creek in Western Australia. Ringer Soak was the first of the Aboriginal communities where I was called to minister as a teacher and in pastoral care. It was my first real experience of living alongside an ancient race of people who lived simply and travelled lightly.
The people of these traditional language groups travelled lightly because being on the edge of the desert they had to move frequently to survive — unlike those who live near water. We all know what happens when we need to move location regularly. We eventually carry only the bare essentials — not that that has happened for me yet. I envy my colleagues who manage to move around with only small cases and a tiny backpack.
It is interesting that there is no native Australian animal that can carry loads or assist with heavy work. Australian animals were not able to be domesticated to assist people with carrying, digging or pulling. Therefore, the “tribal or family” groups carried everything themselves and their movement was mainly restricted from water hole to water hole. And they shared the waterholes with the animals, which also provided the people with a food source.
Living Water
It was in my early days in the Kundat Djaru Community at Yaruman, Ringer Soak, that I was struck by the women referring to “living water”. I heard in their description one of my favourite Scripture passages: “Whoever drinks of the water that I will give them shall never thirst; but the water that I will give them will become in them a well of water springing up to eternal life” (John 4:14). The Jaru people called “living water” the water in the springs that never dried up. This water remained all year round even in the drought — so very different from the waterways that came and went.
So, I found myself on the edge of the desert with the Jaru people who lived simply, travelled lightly and called their water “living water” recognising its deeper meaning for their very lives. It didn’t just quench their thirst. It was water that sustained them. It was their source of life.
There has been development in the Community over the years and there are now bores and storage tanks. But visitors to the Community are invited to a special water hole that is a spring, and there they are blessed with the living water, as a ritual of welcome and expression of hospitality. To receive the blessing, the visitor kneels and bows low, and the leader trickles the water over the person’s head. It is such a generous ceremony to use precious water for welcome in a very dry land — it somehow humbles the soul and opens the eyes of the heart.
Traditional Ways of Finding Water
The desert people knew where to find water, not only from their song-lines or stories, from oral instruction or visiting groups passing on information, but also by closely observing the bird life and animals and insects. They knew that corellas were never far from water nor were the delightful green budgies or the varieties of finches. In fact, these birds were always within a 15 minute flight of water.
And the people knew of significant rock holes where water lay stored from the wet season. They covered the holes carefully, usually with a flat rock, to keep them free from contamination.
They recognised, too, the tell-tale signs of animals that had found water in seemingly dry creek beds. The animals could smell the water and would scratch around for it. The people would then scoop out the earth by hand or with a coolamon, digging down until they found the water.
A simple and effective way to filter the water was by placing a mesh of grass stalks into the soggy sand — the stalks acted like a sieve, allowing the water to rise but not the sediment, so that it was clear enough to drink.
Survival in Extreme Times
I have been told of two life-saving methods of getting water in times of extreme drought.
One was by squeezing sand frogs that hibernate under the sand in drought and are usually gorged with water. If people are desperate they can dig out a frog and squeeze it to release the fluid. They could release enough fluid to save a person from dying of thirst. When I heard this account I didn’t think to ask what happened to the frog once it was squeezed of its fluid. I suspect it gave up its life.
The second method was by using the root of a particular kurrajong tree. Once they had found the tree they looked for a crack in the ground near the tree where they could dig down to expose a root. They would then cut out a length of root, scrape off the bark covering from a section of it and cut the root into shavings. They would then squeeze the shavings to release the fluid and drink it. They would carry the remainder of the root with them on their journey and shave and squeeze it as they needed it.
Communion of Creation
My experience of living with the Jaru people made me aware of their deep connection to the land and their embeddedness in the whole of their environment. They feel these relationships in every sense — a life of oneness in creation. I am grateful to be living with them and learning from their wisdom.
Tui Motu Magazine. Issue 227, June 2018: 6-7.