Page 103 of The Pearl Sister
‘Well, in the past three hours, I’ve eaten brekky, taken a wander round the town and hired us a car that you need to pay for at reception. We need to leave for Hermannsburg, like, pronto.’
‘Okay, sorry again.’ I threw back the sheet and staggered upright. Chrissie watched me quizzically as I pulled on my shorts and rooted in my rucksack for a clean T-shirt.
‘What’s up?’ I asked her as her eyes followed me to the mirror where I ran a hand through my hair.
‘Do you often have nightmares?’ she asked.
‘Yeah, sometimes. My sister told me I did anyway,’ I said casually. ‘Sorry if I disturbed you.’
‘You don’t remember them?’
‘Some of them, yes. Right,’ I said, shoving my wallet into my shorts pocket, ‘let’s go to Hermannsburg.’
As we drove out of town onto a wide, straight road surrounded by red earth on either side, the sun beat down on our tiny tin-can car. I was amazed it didn’t explode from the heat it was enduring.
‘What are they called?’ I asked, pointing to the jagged mountains in the distance.
‘The MacDonnell Ranges,’ said Chrissie without missing a beat. ‘Namatjira did lotsa paintings of them.’
‘They look purple.’
‘That’s the colour he painted them.’
‘Oh, right.’ Then I wondered ifIcould ever paint a realistic representation of what I saw in the world. ‘How does anyone ever survive out here?’ I mused, looking out of the window at the vast open landscape. ‘Like, there’s nothing for miles and miles.’
‘They adapt, simple as that. Did you ever read Darwin?’
‘Readit? I thought Darwin was a city.’
‘It is, idiot, but a bloke called Darwin also wrote books – the most famous was calledOn the Origin of Species.He talks about how all the plants and flowers and animalsandhumans have adapted to their surroundings over millennia.’
I turned to look at Chrissie. ‘You’re a secret boff, aren’t you?’
‘Nope.’ Chrissie shook her head firmly. ‘I’m just interested in what made us, that’s all. Aren’t you?’
‘Yeah, that’s why I’m here in Australia.’
‘I’m not talking about our families. I mean, whatreallymade us. And why.’
‘You’re sounding like my sister, Tiggy. She goes on about a higher power.’
‘I’d like to meet your sister. She sounds cool. What does she do?’
‘She works up in Scotland at a deer sanctuary.’
‘That sounds worthwhile.’
‘She thinks so.’
‘It’s good for the soul to be responsible for something or someone. Like, when our Aboriginal boys have their initiation, they’re circumcised and then given a stone – it’s called atjurunga– and on it is a special marking showing them what they need to look after in the Bush. Could be a waterhole or a sacred cave, or maybe a plant or an animal. Whatever it is, it’s their responsibility to protect and care for it. There used to be a human chain all the way across the Outback that had a responsibility to look after the necessities. The system kept our tribes alive as they crossed the desert.’
‘That sounds incredible,’ I breathed. ‘Like the traditions actually have a point. So, do only boys get one of thosetju—’
‘Tjurungastones. Yeah, only men get one – women and children aren’t allowed to touch them.’
‘That’s a bit unfair.’
‘It is,’ she said with a shrug, ‘but we women have our own sacred traditions too, that we keep separate from the men. My grandma took me out Bush when I was thirteen, and I’m not joking, I was scared shitless, but actually, it was really cool. I learnt some useful stuff, like how to use my digging stick to find water or insects, which plants are edible and how to use them. And’ – Chrissie tugged at her ears – ‘by the time I came back, I could hear someone sneeze from halfway down the street and tell ya exactly who it was. Out there, we were listening for danger, or the trickle of water nearby, or voices in the distance that would guide us back to our family.’
