INTRODUCTION: ANTHROPOLOGY IN SOUTH AUSTRALIA

C, ANDERSON & P, SUTTON

This volume marks what We hope is # rewencra-

tion of anthropology in the Records af Hie Sait

Australian Museum. The Records began in 1919 9nd

early volumes contained significant anthropological

contribulions, includiné major ethnographic works

by scholars such as Tindale, Mountlord, Birdsell,

MeConpel and Rerndt. From the tate 1950s, how-

ever, the anthropological content of the journal

declined vonsiderably, to a point whereby between

1968 and 1984 there were only lwo anthropulogy

articles. Further, neidier of these dealt with

Australian Aboriginal culture, Thais is espectally

irome wiven (hat the South Australian Museunt

has the largest and most comprehensive colleetion

of Aboriginal material in the world,

From the present volume on, the Records will tbe

publishing two numbers 4 year, and up to half of

cach will contain vontrituGons which are anthyro-

pological in nature. Articles will deal wiih topics

inall sub-diseiplines of anthropology and all evlno-

oraphic areas, Obviously, however, Our major con-

centration will be on areas best represented in the

Museum collection (Aboriginal Australia and

Melanesia), We are also interested in providing a

venue lor the publication of good ethnographic and

other dat, In recent decades, articles of this nature

savin co have become wnfashionable and as a con-

sequence, scholars, particularly those will recent

dectorates, are not encoliraged to write articles

which are primarily duta-oriented, We believe there

is a considerable amount of important material out

there which should be wrillen up and given wider

scholarly access,

With respect to Aboriginal Australia al least, we

wont fo encourage papers which have /and, in all

us forms, a5 a primary focus, whether this be

through studies of Jand tenure, ethnoscientic

investigations, or oral histories and texts relating

mythological systems to landlorms. ‘There are two

reasons for this, Such a focus fosters a maiulti-

disciplinary appreach which allows different views

of similar problems. Secondly, there js a certain

historical continuity in it which pleases us As the

paper by Philip Jones demonstrates, Adelaide-style

anthropology from at least the 1920s was very much

multi-disciplinary and data-oriented. There are

certaliy of their ossumptions (those relating co

euliure change, for instance), and methods (for

example, exclusively short-term fieldirips), which we

may not share today. However, our own fieldwork

(Anderson's and Sutton’s) in Cape York Peninsula

wivolving multi-disciplinary, land-based studies of

Aboriginal systems, means that we have a funda-

mental affinity with the earlier work done our of

Adelaide, I is interesting that the kinds of

unttirapology in Adelaide from the 1920s to the

(9405, and in Queensland in the 1970s, are more

closely related to each other than they are to the

work which was centred on Sydney and tater

Canberra over .a similar penod

Por this inaugural issue, we decided co focus on

anthropology in South Auystraha, and exclusively

on work done with or about Aboriginal people in

ihe state. We have tried to include examples of

research in miost of the major sub-disciplines ot

anthropology (linguistics, prehistory and socic-

cullural anthropology), excluding only physical

unthropology (although this is discussed by Jones).

Temporally too, we have attempted to be represen-

talive — going from 22 000 BP (Lampert &

Hughes), through the immediately pre-European

period fee Vindale), to the recent past (Hamilton).

As for geographic coverage, we have inchided papers

dealing with most of rhe major regions of South

Australia: the Adelaide area and the south-east, the

Flinders Ranges and mid-norih, the west coast, the

remote north-west and the far north-east.

Norman Tindale and Ronald Berndt in their

papers present mythological accounts from che

south-east and Adelaide area up to the mid-north

and over to Broken Hill respectively, Tindale gives

a comprelicnsive account of the Kaurna myth of

Tjirbruke, a culture bero whose travels and actions

provided a central focus for Kaurna culture, (Ln

1986, markers were pul al some of the sites in this

myth ina joint government-Aboriginal project —

termed the ‘Tjilbruke Trail’) Aboriginal site names,

although mentioned throughout Tindale’s paper,

are not shown on his map as these are included in

a larger work on the south-east which he 1s presently

completing, Figure | is a general map showing the

location of the main place names cited In tle

articles,

Berndt's paper concerns the so-called ‘crocodile

head’ from Panramittee on South Australia’s

eastern border. This object, now in the South Aus-

tralian Museum collectlon, was thought to have

demonstrated the existence of prehistoric crocodiles

in southern Australia, Berndt convincingly argues

that at least for che Seadjun around the turn of

the ventury, the object was instead an important

sorcery and healing object. Both this paper and that

of Tindale, usé mythological data to deseribe and

elucidale aspects of the way of life of Aborigines

@Ayers Rock iN 1,1

i N Bete

. Ernabella

To Warburton (W. AD as —wAmata,

iene is MUSCRAVE RANGIS

woe

oe Fr Indulkarie

| CROP axe mill

i eCoffin Hill Ayels

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To Kalgoorlie (W.A, rs

NULDARBOR PLAIN

eYalata

-stucla (W.A.) ~Kounibbae

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yy PYKE PENINSULA

“4,

’

efinke

ee ee

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it us BO Rinpaenya

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Kilometres §

BBiidsville [

SIMPSOM UPSER Pandie Pand i

Dalhousie Ruin

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, YX

/-@Marrée

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FIGURE !. Map of South Australia showing place names mentioned in following articles.

in the southeastern portion of the state. [t must

certainly be rare to present new cultural material

in such detail for southern Australia. Thus both

articles are important ones.

One matter remains to be discussed with regard

to Berndt’s paper. Elkin (1950: 12) states that Berndt

told him that the Panaramittee rock engravings were

secret. Professor Berndt denies this, commenting

thus:

What I did say (as noted toward the end of page 8

of the article), is that | was told that these engravings

were of the Dreaming and that traditionally they had

mythological associations and songs concerning them.

I think that was probably quite correct, but | have no

evidence to suggest that any of them were ‘secret’ —

and certainly not at the time | worked with Barney.

On the other hand, in so far as the verida (‘crocodile

head’) stone is concerned, this could well have been a

tabu-ed site ... the parida was dangerous for those

persons who did not know its power or how to handle

it. | believe we can assume that the actual engraving

was not religiously ‘secret’ but magically dangerous Lo

the uninitiated; and thal it served to substantiate the

use of varida sorcery and as a ‘prototype’ indicating

how this object should be made (Berndt pers. commi.)

The paper by Luise Hercus deals with one site,

MaRaru, in the Simpson Desert in the far north of

the state and the mythological associations which

the site has with one toa. Toas are Aboriginal

sculptures from the Lake Eyre Basin and are dealt

with in the 1986-7 SAM exhibition ‘Art and Land’

and the related publication (Jones & Sutton 1986).

Hercus concludes that this toa, as with the others,

reflected the situation of Aborigines in the area in

the early twentieth century, rather than some time-

less ‘traditional’ period.

Ronald Lampert and Phillip Hughes present

preliminary findings suggesting population move-

ments between the Flinders Ranges and the Lake

Eyre Basin, taking place at least as long ago as

22 000 BP. They argue that, in addition, these

movements were major and recurring phenomena

dependent on changes in aridity. These two papers

illustrate some of the issues to be pursued in the

major research programme which the South Aus-

tralian Museum has under way in the Lake Eyre

Basin (with the participation of two of these

authors).

Maggie Brady’s paper concerns moves by Pitjant-

jatjara people out of thelr original country in the

north-west, south onto the west coast of South

Australia, during the first half of this century. She

discusses the various factors involved in these

moves, including the attraction of rations, and the

atomic testing in the west of the state. Some of the

material in this paper was collected during the

course of work which Brady was undertaking

during the Royal Commission into British Nuclear

Tests in Australia, We hope that in future we will

be able to publish more of the valuable material that

is produced during the many and varied consulting

projects which anthropologists are so involyed with

these days. Too often significant work remains as

inaccessible and uncited reports.

The Pitjantjatjara- and Yankunytjatjara-speaking

peoples of the north-west are also the subject of

Annette Hamilton’s paper. Like Brady, she deals

with population movements, but describes and

analyses them on a far more micro-scale. Hamilton

presents important data on camp composition and

mobility from the period of her major fieldwork

in the area (1970-1971). She questions the assump-

tion that Aboriginal mobility patterns are the result

merely of cultural continuities, demonstrating that

even in an area of relative isolation where traditional

values still dominate, mobility and population

composition shifts can have just as much to do with

the involvement of Aborigines in the wider, Aus-

tralian economy (in this case, pastoralism).

In a fascinating piece of intellectual history,

Philip Jones in his paper outlines the history of

early ethnological research in South Australia,

leading to the establishment of the Board for

Anthropological Research in 1926, He describes the

Board’s expeditions up to 1939, its methods and

assumptions, and, most importantly, the informa-

tion resulting from each trip. Jones lists the films,

still photograph collections, artefacts, genealogies,

publications and many other records of Aborigina!

life in Central Australia, South Australia, and

elsewhere. He demonstrates that apart from perhaps

the work of Spencer and Gillen, there is no better

and more comprehensive overall documentation of

Aboriginal life than that which emerged from the

research of the Board and its members. Much of

this material has never been used by anthropologists

working later in the same areas. This paper is part

of a larger work which Jones is undertaking on the

history of the Board and its activities,

Like geological strata, the papers in this volume

can be read as examples of different phases of

Australian anthropological history. The age

difference between the youngest and the oldest of

the authors exceeds fifty years. The complementary

good qualities of the various papers show that

anthropologists of different backgrounds have

much to gain from sharing their work.

Almost all the authors in this yolume either

worked at the South Australian Museum at some

stage in their careers or have done research on some

part of the Museum's collections. We are pleased

that we have been able to bring papers by them

together in this journal, as part of its anthropo-

logical Yebirth’, to present a picture of aspects of

studies in the anthropology of Aboriginal South

Australia,

REFERENCES

ELKIN, A, P., BERNDT, R. & BERNDT, C. 1950. ‘Art

in Arnhem Land’, Cheshire, Melbourne.

JONES, P, G, & SUTTON, P. J, 1986. ‘Art and Land;

Aboriginal Sculptures of the Lake Eyre Region’. South

Australian Museum, Adelaide.

THE WANDERINGS OF TJIRBRUKI : A TALE OF THE KAURNA PEOPLE

OF ADELAIDE

NORMAN B. TINDALE

Summary

This is the story of the legendary activities and difficulties of an Australian Aboriginal ancestor of

the Kaurna tribespeople of the Fleurieu Peninsuka and the vicinity of Adelaide in South Australia,

as brought together from the recollections of several aged informants. The problems faced by

Tyjirbruki, a renowned hunter of kangaroos, afford glimpses of early problems of conservation, and

the consequences of transgressions of rules established to protect vital food resources. In the

discussion some data are given on intertribal trade and the ways in which continuities of exchange

were fostered from one generation to the next.

lik WANDERINGS OF TIIRBRUKI: A TALE OF THE KAURNSA PHOPLE OF ADELAIDE

NORMAN B. TINDALL

TINDALL. NORMAN 1987. The wanderiugs of Tiirbruki, (ale oF he Ravina people of

Adelaide, Reo. S Atst, Mus, 2th 5-13.

‘Llas isthe story of the legendary activities and difficullies of an Australian Abo ginal ancestor

of the Kawena tribespeople of the Fleurieu Peninsula and the vicinity Of Adelaide in Seurh

Ausiralin, as brought together from the recollections ul’ sever) aged informants, ‘The prablers

faced by Vyirbruki, a renowned hunter of kangdrous, afford wlitnpses OF early plablens at

conservation, and [he vonsequeneces of Hanagressions of rules established to provect vital faad

resources. In the discussion some data are given on Wieribal trade and the ways iaewhich

vontinuibes af exchange were fosiered from one genenttion fo the nent.

Nora Bo dindale, Honorary Research Associate, South Australian Museuns, Natth Terre

Adelaide, South Australia S000. Manuseript reeelweul TR Noveniber 1985,

The story of [Pjirbrukij!, an ancestor of the

Kausha tibespeople of Aborigines on the eastern

shore of St Vincent Gulf in South Australia (see

hig U), is arecord of some events in the life of one

oF the heroic beings remembered in theip traditions.

In a ‘remote’ past Tjirbruki® was one of their

ancestors. Although only a common man Tjirbruki

was a worder!ul person, a greal hunter of kanga-

roos. He was neither.as powerlul as [Nu'runduri]

or as awe-lispiring. Neurunduri was the great

beidg who had formed the Murray River and its

endJakes during his attempts lo spear the gigantle

Murray cod fish which he pursued, reach by reach,

duwn the stream from the beart of the riverine areas

west of the Great Dividing Rade in eastern

Australia, Nevertheless Tjirbruki was a great man.

He was of the {'Patpageal band or clan, the

southernmost one of the Kaurna tribe, having. (heir

[‘paykara] or territory along the shore of Rapid Bay

and its ['wita] (peppermint gui tree) forested hills

Inland.

The selling of the slory seems lo show a people

already established in their country, Already they

were loosely divided into groups which seem to have

had the same general distribution as the several

present day tribes among which the stary was told:

the Kaurna, Ramindjeri, Peramangk, the Lake

Alexandiina-dwelling Jarildekald, and the Tangane

(of the Coorong shores which extend uway to the

south), Fach of these tribes had links with Fleurieu

Peninsula much as when the ‘white people” first

appeared early in the nineteenth century.

Our record of the activities of the man Tjirbruki

is Hor complete bul gives some insight into the ways

Of the earlier inhabitants as remembered by present

day Aborigines, The account is based, not on direct

text material, but has been brought together [rom

vonyersalions with men of four of the tribes over

a long period helween 1928 and 1964. At first the

full import of the Tjirbruki story was not evident

(o this writer; thus the notes are widely scattered

in his journals and in part therefore have been

linked together from personal recollections. A firm

basis for the story, as given tere, is Lhe ene told to

the Jate H. Kenneth Pry and me on the evening of

Id February 1934 during an extensive ficld trip on

which we had been taken by Milerum of tbe

Karagari clan of the Tanganckald tribe in a survey

of his country along the Coorong. Having worked

with me for several vears, Milerunt was a skilled

informant. Our camp had been set near the coast

opposite Tilley Swamp. It was a long slory which

he had heard at Yankalilla When he was quite young

in the early J880s, The narrators then were using

Rapid Bay talk and Milerum attempted to use terms

he had heard at that time. There were

supplementary discussions thereafter on more than

one occasion.

A summary of that part of the story which

voncerned the use of caves as burial places was

published in an account of the archaeoloyical

excavation of Kongarati Cave on the coast of St

Vincent Gulf (Tindale & Mountlord 1936). A rather

romantic version of part of the story, writter in the

florid style of some Grecian mythology, Was

published by William Ramsay Smith (1930) bul is

not used in this account.

The help of several informants is ackuowledged.

In addition to Milerum, Karlowan (Jariddekald

tribe) supplied much data, and Reuben Walker

spoke for the Ramindjeri and the people of Rapid

Bay. Sustie Wilson, whose mother had been a

Kaurna, alyo had some Ramindjeri details, while

Robert Mason of the Mannum area recalled some

details of the Peramangk he had learned from he

mother wha was of thar tribe, In 1929 Tvaritji, a

Kaurna woman, supplied the intormation abour her

father’s and her own totem, the emu.

6 N. B, TINDALE

@Gawler

Quter Harb

@averaive

5 . Glenelge

Gulf of St Vincent @Marion

Brightone

Hallett Covee ie}

Port Noarlungae

Port Willunga®

@Sellicks Hill

eG eMyponga

a Si

Normanvillee

e@Yankalilla

Rapid Head i —

ape A “@Rapid Bay & 7 _@Port Elliot

ee) ictor Harbor

Cape Jervis

0 65

Kilometres

FIGURE 1. Map of Fleuricu Peninsula and Adelaide area.

THE WANDERINGS OF TJIRBRUKI

Tjirbruki and his fellow Patpangga clansfolk were

living at ['Tankul'rawun] near Rapid Bay. Tankulrawun

(its name has the meaning of the ‘Granite place’) was

one of their summer camping places near 'Wita'watan).

Today Witawatang is known as Rapid Head.

There came an urge among some of the members of

the band assembled there, including some young

visitors, to go north and arrange a hunt for ['kari] or

emus. Many Xari were to be seen in the [’ru:we], clan

Rosetta Head

fFneounter Bay

1 45 20

Area shown on map

@Brukunga

e@Mt Barker

Murray Bridge

eStrathalbyn

Lake Alexandrina

lands of the Tandanja people at Adelaide because that

big bird was their ['gaitji], or totem. They did not kill

them although they feasted on their eggs.

Tjirbruki, who was a hunter skilled in kangaroo

spearing, did not wish to go, but his much loved

[‘na:gari] or sister’s son, named ['Kulultuwi], who was

visiting with him along with several companions, did

so wish. Kulultuwi called his mother’s brother [‘wan:u]

or ['kawanu] as did two other younger lads whom he

persuaded to go along with him. Both ['Jurawi] and

['Tetjawi] bore the same relationship to Tjirbruki

WANDERINGS OF TILRERUKI 7

although they were by different mothers. They departed

hastily. (It tay be assumed that cheir families

accompanied them alifrough (he story, ay told, offen

omits such details.)

Tjirbruki, not wishing ta take part, shifted his camp

more leisurely, moving through the mwe pl the

['Wigarhip) clan which began near ['Karika ties), 2

name slill on the map as Carrickalinga. He arrived at

|'Wituwa'ta:gk] mow known as Brighton. He and his

family were welcome visitors in the clan lands of the

{ Jatabilig] at Witueatangk, Whose ['papkara] (hunting

territory) extended northward along the eoast beyond

the plave now known as Outer Harbour, Tyirbruki spent

much of his time at Wituwatangk fishing for [’kurari],

also called (‘darjawe| (beaked salmon, Gororhynchue

erey/). Me used a special ['ge:re] or met, lermed a

Pdarrawenjeri ‘gecre}, with which several persons helped

ty Ue Haul.

Meanwhile Kululeuwi and his companions, travelling

aliwad, had sought out, and quietly were driving several

emus ahead of (hem without revealing their presence,

masking their moves by holding up shields of branches.

of cucalyprus fenyes, They moved across the middle of

the ["Mikaworma], te Adelaide plain, because they

needed to keep the birds close to the coast so as to

corner ten at ['Muldag} on the norihern lip of the

Outer Harbour Peninsula. Ancestors Nad made the Part

River for thera se that this could be dane. Four male

kari and four females, kiowh as (taryal, were cauphi

up in theirdrive, By keeping on the coasiward side of

the pla, ihe hunters were avoiding trespass dn

Tandanja hunting grounds beeause they had ner

received permission to take ens Chere ‘Thre bunt wes

going well,

Hawever there was a disturhance. Near

['Patawillayk}, now called Glenelg, seme Incabiling

women were cooking herbs in their hot stone Overs,

This caused the emus to turn away inland. Kululruwi

had I race around. going far Into the Tandanja cuwe

by wey of |'Medaindi], now known as Medindie, |

pievent (fe bleds escaping from the trap. During this

trespass Kululeiwi had killed a female bird, Some Kavi

had escaped but others were successfully held over

several days at Moltane while the men and their

familles fed on the body of the fertjo.

While this was going on Tjirbruki and other people

with kim hat shifted camp (o ['Twlukndagk]? now

called Kingston Park, From there he made short excut:

sions inland, He saw the old racks of emus and their

Titers golhg Worth Wut also the fresh tracks of one

male bird, He decided that (his would be his bird to

hunt, ance according fo custom the first to sight the

presence of game had (he right to take i For a while

he continued to fish, taking several further hauls of

Aurari for his journey,

Then Tjirbruki left, follawing the track of his Ker!

alony the const to [Ka'reildug) (Hallett Cove) and on

to [ Tinba’rag|, now Part Noarlunga, to ['Ruawaruy]

(Port Willunga), and to ['Witawali} where che tracks

(urned inland. There, @ear Setlic¢ks Hill, Ne old name

af which has been furgetten, ihe tracks were lost.

Meanwhile the hunters decided Lo yo back to the rest

of their people They arrived at Wituwatangk during

avery heavy morning fog, found the camp empty and

(hat Tjirbruke had lett

‘Tyirbruki. having lost all traces of tracks, and jadgune

thal the male bird woul continue [(s rmhoverbernts

southward along the coast, turned intand an a path

which took him through the valley at ['Malrpag pa]

(which still bears the name as Mypongs), travelling tt

['Mula'parijgal, a place where there ane many

blackwood trees, continuing Gown the Hindmarsh

Valley | Jalacula, and passing | Jeclto'worti], to Victor

Harbor at [Latsarg), He still tought the emu might

come around by the coast so he hid in ambush and

watched for several days. Ne tracks appeared so he wert

hack on his own trail and found a place where the ole

tracks had been covered by newer Ones. There was 4ood

food for the bird herein the forest, far inland froen bis

Witawatang camp at Rapul Head, In the distance he

saw the smoke of a small fire and, heading in that

direction, te heard the voice of Kulultuwi singing while

one of the younger men was preparing a cooking fwe

for an emu Kulultuwi had killed.

This was the bird which Tjirbruki had been following

and expecting to spear He confronted Kulultuwi,

claiming that his nengen had been wrong in killing his

male bind. His Own foutprifts should have |dicated

this fo the younger man.

Kululiuwi said. ‘Sorry, | did not know tt was your

kan, You saw the bird first, Cook jt and take it home

to your children’,

Tjirbeuki teplicd, “No! You killed i, You cook it aad

give us some of the meat": He had some kangaroe meal

and did jot need the emi, Tjirhrokl them departed.

Kulultuwi made ready the [‘wintsimi] oven, making

ihe bed of hot stenes, placing the green herbs aver then,

Puttiog the biel on and covering it With further herbs

und earth, and pouring on water to make much steam

Aficr waiting for i) to cogk Kululiuwi, as was

customary, dug ih and 160k out the Head of rhe bid

to see if it was resdv whee o sudden burst of steam

blinded lim. Thereupon his part brothens, Tetjawi and

Jurawi, lakiie advantage, (usted (m, speared, and killed

him.

‘The boys reasoned they had killed their [‘jugaljal,

or elder trother, because he had transgressed, Navilig

really knawn from reading the tracks thal the hired

belonged to their wannn, The youths cul off the meat

from the bores of the bird and carried (f tO [heir Oy

people of the Jatabiling clan, They left the body af

Kuluhuwi, They told vhelr folk thar Kulutiuwi had deme

wromg. [Naifau! peindjali) (in front of us/the emu},

They used a northern Word for emu, lmplying that the

bird meat was evidence that Kululruw! transgressed.

Their people carried the body of Kululurwi to

['Warrpari} (Siar reek) on the Adelaide plains near

Marlon Where they continued the arying of the flexed

bod¥ on gu rack Over a fire

The yourhs made up a story that Kulultuwi, in fear

of the anger OF Tilroruk), had gone away elsewhere 16

hunt further for enius. When this false stury reached

him at Rapid Bay, Tjirbruki asked several members of

the Witjarlung Clon living north of his country give &

tessage of forgiveness to Kulultuwi. Although they

Knew of (he death of Kultiruw) they, with malice, did

not tell him the truth.

Seurchine for Rutultaw), Thirbroki went fist to

| Loykowar) (Rosettt Head), the great bluff ov

Evicounte Bay, ches up |! Muclapari| the Inman River

N. &. TINDALE

fo | Towaraink|, near Moon Hill, and oon te

| Muikabatagk) near tle vomst ar Norimanville Tis

family had gone with him, Then he begae te wander

vboul by himscl Dorie as Tar as | Nitarage) Hands

Pod), at that tie still ti Rownta Couriry faccardiiy

Lo flonan) Rarlowa),

Heading marth afin he caine cO (he phe year Where

he had seen Kulurtiwi lust and chunved to see sonie

sugar antsy on the irack, He pieked up same ants

carrying human hair and others with blood and we

ochre: Further on, Ne tound more and knew in his

thoughts that mangert was dead. He saw where the body

Had heen, and Where peaple had made a smoke tire,

They bad made u | tirokat), or drying rack of poles

Hed together ike a raft such as a man uses wher fishing,

On the rhifd Gay they had, as was customary, covered

the body with red ochre ['tasuwe] from [/Potartayy).

They brad carried (he bier towards Adelaide.

Having made these discoveries Tjirhruki said, ‘| have

oily one spear properly fiacd, | am off He lefr the

place in (he wie (peppermim (tee foresg) and went

towards | Rawera gal] (Port Elliot), At Rawaranyal he

had opportunities, through his [giagianmpel trading

parmers, neobluin good spears which had come from

the Tanganekald people on the Coorong, On the way,

while walking along the [Mu:lapari} (taman River), he

met [\lorlif the red-backed kingfisher (Maleyon

perrhopygivs) (iat, On hearing his story Fort gave

lim o spear, as did another man, [Joldi) of the black

cormorant (PAulwerpeorax carbo) totem ar the Finniss.

Tiirbrnki, with) fis ew Weapons, chose to follow tracks

qidng the eastern side of the Mount Lofty Ranges

through Peramungk tribal country, keeping to their

exsleny DOUNINLY Lo avoid Seriolis trespass, On the way

he camped at ['Wiljat'au | ear Srathalbynm, thea ar

['Peiera] (Woodehester Waterfall), hen at |’Motopegall

(Mount Barker), and al |Bo'rukuges), now (he minitus

township of Brukunga. Trivelling om threugh places

Hot fow remembered, he cume Te ['Ralia) (Gawler)

which was the begining wf Tandanja clay country.

Keeping near the coast he travelled south. He hud

learned where a biy canmy [tallarnarl) was gatherine

at Marion on Sturt Creek. ble arrived, very weary, al

Wijawatangk-

Children saw hist and cried out, ‘Here is ald

(muta Old father’s mother’s brother soon was the

centre of uo gathering and he told then he would stay

la rest only the one fight, Me saw (hal (he two men,

Jurawi and Tetjawi, were present. Acknowlediny: that

Kululruwi was dead, they deveived Tjirbruki about the

real killers, blaming his death on strange people wha

might have been Peramangk tribes- folk who had come

along the Mount Lofty Ranges,

Tyjitbruki ignored Uheir (mplications, knowing Cat

they were lying, He practised deception alse, saying.

"Yes! | know! Strange men came from [he |'wirsal

(forest) coumtry in the porth!. He thus made our that

he thought the soune en were innacent, On the

following day Jurgw| aqd Teljawi with their families

made a pari day’s journey to Warrpari (the Sturt Creck

ai Marion) where they settled in at the bi, faldarmari

taut. The body of Ruluitwi was still being smmoke-cdried

there on awomek, Inthe evening they beoqua [bull

dancing tor (he ol man aud fe initiated others, Then

he sang the Whole camp (0 sleep. Me tested them by

calling our, Come! Give help witha hagl ot Award ish!

‘There was ni fesponse and the ald fia vid, “Ak! Ive

got youl!

Hiirbrukt was a uiister at fire-waking, He tock

powdercd simpuvbark (ree Bark [ori bas Under and

sel lh around the caladenme with much grass, leavivie

only a amall aap atthe enlaces Phen asin a [bribed

(iron pyriles) stone and. 9 piece of finistune ['paldan],

he started fires at each pile of morrii or tinder, telling

the fire to Blaze up quickly. He ered our laudly:

“Ragkag ‘gagund hayoml dob You me getting burmed!

Camp on fire’.

The top af the (a/derert began to fall in as it hurried

and all the people anempred to rush out, As children

came Out he kicked Une with tis foot aad hil tren

with his club. Out came Jurawi whom he speared with

a (windi| or dread-spear, one ser wilh quartz chips in

Tesit On AGS Head, The spear entered Tirawi right up

fo the [tunel or swelling of resifi set on the spear te

prevenr its too ready removal from the wound,

Out came Teljawi whoo he speared also anu held

in the fire. Only when he felt no further kicking dix!

he accep thal they were done’, He pulled out che spears

and waited uatil morning as the faldamart burned ta

the around,

_ Thirbrukt took the dried body of is wanpart ta

[Tulukudlag’ |, a spring of good water on Ue beach of

Kingston Park Reserve at Marino. There he complered

the smoking of the body of Kulultuwi and an inquess

was held, Many people gathered for (he ceremony, The

names of the two killers were confirmed, Tjirbruki

learned thar tis nengeri had indeed been siruck down

while raking the head of the emu from the fire, looking

for the steam coming from its bill, indicating the bird

was cooked

Carrying his burden, now a dry compact parcel,

Hjrbruki said, ‘I go back now!’ He departed, walking

along the coast to [Ka reilduy}, now called Hallew

Cove, where he rested. As he reclined he began iv think

ABOU! fis Hepliew and burst io cryin: [ka'relOuat.

Tears ran down tis face and where they fell to the

ground a spring of warer welled up (thus (he spor

hovame.a caniping place), Tyrbruki hen journeyed to

{ Taittba'racy] (Port Noarlunga) where he burst ira flesh

tears, He went on te ['Potartagy] (Red Ochre Cove),

Section 462, Hinedred ot Williiua, where te ened

ARON, yet anarher spilog of ware came wp. He ihe

walked fo (Ruwaruy] teveral hundred metres south ol

Por Willunga jeiry), The ide was mut, He sat dewn

on (he beach and cried once more, The |'lucki] (leurs)

dropped an the sand, causing a april tO appear At

high tide the sea covered it, but when the tide Dell again

the fresh water could by obtained by scraping in the

sund. It remains so todiy.

The old man then carried the body to |’ Witawall|

Of the Beaeh north of Sellicks Hill, He netecd (hat

there was a fine bay whieh would serve at night aso

good petting place for sea salmon, Mis (ears were still

flowing and hroughr a spring into heing there (vicinity

of Section 649, Hundred of Willunga),

While there, Tlirbrukl begat to think of turther

ariidges and 45 he Was passing through the pangkara

af ihe Wijarlwug families it disiuebed tim chat they

ld failed ta pass on his message Of forgiveness to

Kudulriowi and his ether seystiews. Instead of continuing

WANDERINGS OL TIEKBRUKI "

along the beach he turned inliend and climbed aver

Sellicks Mill, He kept Malipanga on his left and climbed

another high bill Git may have been Moting teffcor or

Black Hil), (here he made a stoke signal. White

smoke weal straight typ, People who were gamped at

a place culled [| Warabari) saw the smoke and began to

jnlerpier its meaning:

Turlil garwand ‘werali, (Smoke plenty/going

opwards,)

Kom lore ‘kur ‘avalbue Sondal’) (Met? straight

up/good news of killing (in this loosely translated

remark ['malpuri] given as uilty of murder’ in Jaralde,)

‘tj nel lund’, (Me is coming home.) (dr Tangane

{'gerei hun) has been translared os ‘quickly; wasting no

time’.)

Ujirbruki mace other fires as he picked up the

dnsweriog smoke, aid continued fo dasa until he Was

close enough to hear the people shouting. Lb was the

cump of ie men (Lim) anc |'Narak anil:

Nalt) piirncubuiaul.” (ble is coating.)

Those who were still in their huts asking:

‘Jayaleit)?’ (ow fur away")

“Nit) (¢ipulund.’ (He is close)

Tiirbruki Heard the quesnoning, He wore his

bundle of spears, aking as mtny de he could Hold, and

walked directly into the camp, A first spear he drove

ino Nearakkani, another inte | Yegaretawil, a thied

ite Limi andthe bist one inte | Tubaki}, (Even if ioay

days i Was proper fa spear people in the leps unless

murder was the direct intention), The men saw that

Thirbroki meant misehiel andl all look headers inte the

waler and titaed vata lsh, Thos, in the sea ory

fNaldenpaftoday you will find [yarakiani] (the gummy

shark, Afustelus anrareticus), Ulimi) (the cobbler carpet

shark, Sworeetus fentacy/atis), also ['peyara'tawi] (the

southern fiddler, Trvgonorrhina eaurerins), and

J tubabi), The long thin shark with the flag on it (whieh

we have for Kleatitied, alvhough it perhaps i the

cewkiail shark, Carchurhinays brachyurus) Uese tsh

became the ngage or tolems ol members of the

Witharlung clio of tie Kauraa tibe, Aoy other people

who Were present When Tjirbruki tok is revenge Ned

ane turned tate Birds, leaving only the old nian there,

alone Satisfied, Uprbruks stayed there a while, anc

When fis nephew's body was again dry enough to carry,

he rolled if if) @ Kanearoo skin and continued on his

jourticy.

Tyo bruki came va ['Kurikaslig'get}] (Section 1018,

Prundied of Yankalilla), jusr south of the place known.

to Europeans us Currickalinga Head, Here there wis

(and is, for informant Rarlowar had set it himself

a litle swamp flat Where | quril grows, very green like

aneed. Ralts, called [Rundi] (nor (kandi) as misprinted

in an earlier publication) were made of the dried stems

of ils pint (probably a Pye), Ted up in brodles,

they were 57 used alyng the Murray River.

Connie Ws journey along the cous! Tyirbriki

wenl Lo [Koyarad yyal where there ys & ] perkil orcave,

Just belore he arrived al the perks We weaits sat dows

and cried: & small sprinw flowed there. He cla noe gi

into the cave but walked further on, a few hundred

metres Lo Lhe mouth of a small creck That is a camping

plice. He vontinved walking, sameiiies ou the shore

and at other times above the cliffs, all the way to

[ Parewar'agk| (now Cape Jervin). From Parewaranuk

he returned norrhwards along the foresnore below the

cliffs and came to another perk! (called [la'marwig! by

another informant), It is close to the place trom whieh

you fan wing (Winn back) because the water is too deep

for one to pass alone the shore,

Tiirbroki left hi, nephew's body outside and, walking

into the darkness, found a place Where there Was a

suitable ledve of rock. Phe put sticks up, Just as was

done when the body was being smoked, carried the

body in, placed iLon the platform, and lett it, He did

not emerge from the eave bul went uti inte the depths

of the bill tora tone way, He made the way wide enough

for him to continuy inside tight upon lop of the range

al | Wateia yeqgal) (ow Mount Haylield), Emening

there he shut tie foirhole' where he came our, He fixes!

it up willl gravel’ lo appear he tad ‘never come out

there’ Going down to the foot of the hill he shook bis

body and dust came off hint, This became thy |ndkaly]

(yellow paint or ochre) which is used for decoraling oF

‘making spears flash’. (A further coniment fram the

informant: ‘Gold has heen found there: may be Fron

off him’),

Thirbroki arrived at [Tjutju'gawi] (west of Moune

Robinson), the camp of the Ramindjert wibesman

[‘Ren'gori] of ibe ['wanmia rai) totem (ringelaul poss,

Pseudocheirus peregrinus). Kengori was a tember of

the Polumpmedjert clan and Ujirbruki recewed

permission from bim to lake warurigrat so tial he eould

make askin rug forthe coming winter. He was tecling

old. He looked out anid saw a swampy lapoon and said

to himsell, “There is no use do my fiving Like a ia

anymore’. However, he left the eamp of Kengori (whose

duventures, which Hecame u separate story, took place

afrer Tjirbruki departed), The old man walked along

the southern shore of the Flenned Peninsula on land

well above the sea intl he came tothe [keigkanja) or

high hill’ called ["Lankowar) (Rosetta |fead).

‘This place will do for me’, Tjirbruki thought. How

will Pdoot?!’ The answer-care, One tee tlearby there

was a bird, a [kelendi] (the grey currawong, Strepera

versicolor), He stalked the hird, killed it, plucked the

leathers, and then rubbed the bird's tar over his owe

body. Ele recalled that [| Kelendij, when te was aril a

Man, was o great messenger who travelled around (he

country singing songs and telling péople of the coming

meetings for initiation of thei young men, Tjibruki

Hed the hird's wil feathers on his urs will haiesirine,

Then he split the flesh between bis big loes, and ihe

third and fourth ones, made a cin, and ‘straight away

suirted to fly’. Asa [Upeebrubkif, which white peaple

today called the glossy ibis UPlepaddis Jaleinellus), bis

spirit suill appears in bird form where (lrere are swaiipy

areas, His body became a | martawalan) (a memorial),

a rocky Gulcrup at Barukiinwea (an Sceerion 1887,

Hundred of Kanmaniog), the place of ttdden tre

UW N. B TINDALE

Discussion

I) can he inferred that at the time of (he actions

in the story the people of Fleuricu Peninsula and

the Murray Lakes region had already settled into

patterns of life similar to those of recent date, They

moved lo the shores m summer, and inland seeking

shelter and firewood in winter. Autumn was the

season for hunting furred asimals to use for rugs

and cloaks against the coming cok! and Wet season,

It was then that elders who claimed such furred

animals as their agaitif or totems permitted hunting

for them by others.

The custoin of giving of the navel-string emblem

at birth, the so-called ['piagi'ampe), passing it to

a family in some clan distant froma clan of one's

own tribe, or even, in mare than a few instances,

to one as far away as beyond bounds of the

adjoining tribe, was almady in operation, It

\nvelved, When the child moved to maturity, linking

with a continuing silent trading system whlch helped

to give him protection in the receipl of materials

essential to his welfare, bue not obtainable in his

own living area, Special rules which prevented bis

meeting his trading partner, or even speaking to

him, afforded protection.

Details in the story imply thal (he actions took

place before the disruptions winch eventuated when

the Kaurna folk accepted the new male iniiatory

rite of circumcision, presumptively many centuries

old. This rite came to them from the north. The

incidental references to iniffalion seem 10 hint only

at ways practised until the present time by the

people of Lake Alexandrina, the Coorong, and at

Encounter Bay. However, as none of the Kaurna

tribesmen furnished details for the tale, we may not

have a clear picture, .

A reference to Peiera in the country near the

present day town of Woodchester may become a

little more significant if « brief outline is given of

initiation and (rade happenings there wheeh, in the

Woodchester area, seem to have continued up to

(he historical preset. It appears that even in the

time of (he Tyirbruki story, important messengers

circulated among the kindred tribes af the Peninsula

tanrying news of impending events, whereupon ii

dye course many clans or families would begin to

drift, particularly along tribal boundary fines, to

the announced gathering place, quite often to well-

wooded country in the general area of Peiera, a

place al the point of confluence of several (rlbes

even in more recent limes. Such calls for initiation

gatherings were made at intervals of several years.

As the weather begat to ameliorate Lo spring Lhere

were closer associalions and gatherings with dances,

enactments of incidents of sturies, and the singing

of songs, Also there were confrontations for the

setting of disputes and even combat and killings.

The passing of articles of trade took place al such

limes, always indirectly, since persons linked by their

ngiangiampe bond cid not speak to each other.

These pccasions were the times of arrangement

of future marriages, brides belug sought for youths

about to be Initiated, Such wouths had been for

some time in casual isolation losing some childhood

associations with (heir family and learning tn forage

for foods on their own in association with other

boys of like age. This hecame increasingly so as tbe

youth began to show signs of manhood and was

ritually driven from the women's camping area.

After beifig subject (0 such ceremonial events as

depilation and being placed in a state called

fna’rambi) or sacredness, he was coated tn red echre,

subjected {6 special rules of behavior, including

avoidance of any contact with the Opposite sex, and

ritual avoidance of water, carried to extreme in that

he might only imbibe it through a hollow reed and

be earned over any streams that stood jn bis way.

The cicatrisation of his body was an important

event, a5 also, in some tribes, the ritual removal of

an incisor tooth.

Tt was at initiation time that some older men

night lead parties of younger men and youths on

tours of country which they would not see at any

other time. One known excursion from Peiera look

Such a partly across the Mount Lofty Ranges west

to Potartang, or Ochre Cove. With the assent of

navel-string-partners they would be allowed to carry

away parcels of the red ochre which Was |mportant

for their decorative needs. Por the implementation

of such a (rade, Tangane youths, for example, would

have carried from their own home areas bundles

of spearshal|s of the special mallee woods which

could best be obtained in the country Inland form

the Coorong. Fllat pieces in packages also could

be carried. Such flint would originate from as far

away as Kingston in the south-east, having been

traded from the Meintangki, but such trade-pieces

were rare enough that (he Tangane seldom received

sufficien| to have any surplus to pass on, Special

needs of the Coorong people included goad

quality red ochre, slony pieces of iron pyrites and

parcels of shredded stringybar& tree bark, morthi,

a powder valued as Linder needed for the lighting

of fires using the percussion method,

Oni these excursions they Could receive permission

10 hunt for some kinds of meat Which were reserved

normally for their elders. In the Tjlrbruki story it

is seen that emu ieat Was forbidden for young men,

The settings of the hinting activities described are

linked with the Tandanja clanspeople of Adelaide

and vicinity on the castern side of the Adelaide

Plain. The Tindanja folk had the emu as their

neeiti. ta faec, both lvaritji, a member of the

Kaurna, and her father, Parnadeitja, claimed this

bird as their totem, Thus Tandanja elders of the ernu

torem, Who did not kill emus, were reluctant thac

WANDERINGS OF TIIRBRUKI a

others should do so because the birds in scason

provided them with eggs as food, Similarly, men

of the Ngarkat tribe in the mallee desert east of the

Murray River avoided the killing of [‘lawan], their

mallee fowl! (Leipoa ocellata), the mound-building

bird, It seems evident that these Aborigines had

pragmatic ldeas for conservation of resources,

Tiirbruki, whose ancestors came down the

Murray River with the great being, Ngurunduri, was

born at ['Watlra'yeqeul], also known fo more

eastern people, the Tangane, as ['Wataranalag|, It

was an important Lying area in the vicinity of

Mount Hayfield, close to a spring on Section IIS,

Hundred of Yankalilla. From ancient times it has

been one of the southernmost living places of the

Kaumia tribespeople; their local clan was celled the

Patpangga and their summer living area was around

Rapid Bay. Other clans with their separate ['ru;we]

(lands) and ['pagkara] (hunting areas) extended

north along the shores of the St Vineet Gulf to

Port Wakefield and even further north, inland to

the vicinity of Crystal Brook where their

northernmost clan, the |'Padnaindi], had its living

space. The names of the several clans between

Gawler anc Rapid Bay are mentioned as being

involved in the story of (he wanderings of Tjirbruki,

For further detail of the several tribes mentioned

in the story see this author’s book on Australian

tribes (Tindale 1974).

Tirbruki is remembered as the ‘creator’ (perliaps

beller transiated a4 ‘fider' or ‘explorer’) of springs

of water, a vilal necessity for all people. Ho also

hac a link with the making of fire, equally

important in the cold and wet winters on the

southern shores, directly exposed as they are to the

chilly southwesterly gales coming from the welields

of Antarctica,

The tovemic mantle which Thirbrukl assumed also

linkeel hirn with fire when bis spirit becarne that of

the glossy ibis (Plegadis feleinedlus). His body was

tured ito stone as a memorial when it becaine

ihe hill of iron pyrites near Nairne on the eastern

stopes of the Monn Lofty Ranges and the place

wluch supplied ihe Hidden fire held in |ts rock, We

learu that bis very name has the literal meaning of

tee, [‘tjirapgobruke)] or ‘hidden fire’ which,

according to informant Kariowan, was one of the

terms used by the Juralde for trade pieces of that

stone, The Tangane term linked with the stome, as

ziven by Milerum, is [ba'ruke] meaning ‘fire’ His

motter, who was of the Potaruwutj tribe, called Ir

[pa’ruki] bul at dimes sald ['wancap], a word used

further nocth by the Ngarkat tribespeople,

The Thirbruki mining area, called by the

Aborigines [Ba'ruk:uggal was on Section 1887,

Hundred of Kanmuntou, and is now parr of the

township of Brukunga. 1) was on a hill abour fifty

metres above the ttorth*souch flowing Dawsley

Creek, According to my son, Anthony J, Tindale,

an engineer, the vicinity has been much altered In

appearance by the extensive commercial mining of

the iron pyrites for the production of sulphur

beginning about the year 1954. However, the whale

mining area at present is in distese.

The percussive method of fire-making was old

in the area covered by this story and was in use When

the first Europeans arrived in the early nineteenth

century, According to Milerum and tis demon-

strations it is clear that the rather battered pieces

af Pint (‘menpi] still to be picked up on their olet

camping ites are unguestlonably the so-called

‘fabricators’, named thus by some archaeologists

who have not, in the past, been Ja communication

with the living. This has, incidently, been a dire

falling with archacologists the world over who are

so myopic that they still call a wide array of stone

implements ‘scrapers’, even thongh their functions

as chisels, adzes, and knives are ‘writ Jarge’ in the

wear and abuses that have Jed to their abandon-

ment, As a newcomer to the archaeology of the

American Indian in 1959, | was shocked to learn

how often the stain-amarks on age-old stone

implements were cleaned off before study, chus

removing the evidence for the resin haltings which

have for as many as ten millennia helped in the

hafting of the tools so casually terined ‘sctapers’.

The idea of the transmutation of ancestral beings

at the end of their earthly wandenngs ito

prominent features of the landsvape, or inthe case

of others into astral beings still wandering about

the heavens and guiding earthly activities, is avery

widely held one in Aboriginal Australia, The

concept is well-documented and noted in such

Western Desert tribes as the Pitjandjara, Ngadad-

jara, Nakako, and many others,

An ancestral being, after travelling about his

domain, contending, discovering, and ‘muagically”

preparing the land for his roromie descendants,

could pass into or attain a stare for which the

Pitjandjara, for example, use the term

['tiuruga'raka]. The spirit enters into a new form.

Often it enters directly into the carth at some

particular place, usually one of special import to

the members of the tribe, To account for stories

common to more than one tribe the beings, af times,

could emerge again in the territory of another

people and have further adventures before again

becoming t/urungaraka elsewhere,

Often a being of a specific totem hecotnes a

prominent topographical feature. Thus a being with

the brown hawk name may become a place useful

as a lookout upon which present-day brown hawks,

its descendants, miay perch and watch over present-

day men of thal totem,

Places noted for particular products are otlen so

R NW CTINDMLE

deneoied, hus, in a stury of two ancestral doe

beings Who appeared among the Ngadjurl people

forth of the Kaurna (Tindale 1937), the bload of

a reddish-colored one became a reel of red ache,

and the black ove's blood also was 4pilled to

hecome a deposit of black wad, Or manginese, Both

are minerals iMpoyvtant-as pigments for the bodies

of men while dancing, and for the decoration of

young men being prepared for heir initiation iw

manhood.

Among the Tangane of the Coorong such beings

could become ['ma:towald}, (aking (he form of some

wnusual feature in (hal country or rould even be

marked by such a feature as a clump of weees trom

which a being had made his spears ur other

weapons, The same term applied to memorials

represented in the heavens as wander|ig planets, or

slars as beings seated around their carmmpfires, Meyer

(1843) recorded a similar word used by the

Rwnindjeri of Encounter Bay, sarte-wallin,

translating jt as ‘becoming stone or being

Iransformed into stone’,

In the same work Meyer noted thac a similar

Term, malenggauwe, signified a ‘song used by the

Adelaide Aborigines’, It is possible that this was a

term applied by them to songs about ancestral

beings. a

One song haked with Tjirbruki has come down

to us. It was recalled by Milerum and sung for me

in November 1937 when it was electrically recorded

on Dise Nu, | Clarence Long Series of phonograph

fecords, How i) the South Australian Museum

collection,

Culled ibe ‘Song of Njenwari’ it was published

{Vindale 1941) but should be recalled here since its

subject may give 4 yseful lead as to the possible time

when the pattern of the present day Tjirbruki tale

was first laid down, Also it may well he the analy

mifengeauwe song of the Kaurna that has survived.

Njengari was a kinsman of ‘Tjirbruki, Me was of

a happy disposition and given to dancing, With his

companions he made a dancing place on (he cous

at | Watbardok] on the shore of the Pevinsula

between Sections 60 and 207, Husdred of

Yankalilla, close to the cave which Tjithruks left

his nephew's badly, Thal cave is said to open on che

cliff o little to the north of it and wear the plave

where people have to detour, janauwite, beeayse

of the chits entering the seu.

Min'antargyatad une bannelaagut

vlad (start Glaniwing) dance

kranclyvras palit ‘jiywarayal \erainibara

make a level place cual rims sep the news

galau Wathardok Quindel wit (hyelduen)|

around Warbardok qide nsing ey up

ew JAN wey

poup go back

Rejoive, clear vhe place for dancing; make tt level

plaice — see the duyt fly!

We set (he nets around at Watbardok; tide rises

— we clinth the ell again.

The coastal land which Njetwart used for dancing

is now under (he sea and joday the place is a

renowned beaeh for oeming. ‘The smooth said

enabled the nets to be suewessfully drawn during

the first hour of the rising tide, To engage in fishiie

one climbed down the chills, The fish were taken and

as the tide rose men vlimbed the vfitfs again er

risked being vut off by the risine waters.

Unlike Tjirbruki, whose body hevame a rocky

memorial at Brukunga, the Kauyna saw the

transformation of Njengarias taking him into the

heavens where he happily remains as the stays

Njenvari, wf whose identiry we have no clues.

The archaeological details of the pluces

mentioned jn this paper have not been as vet fully

developed, An account by Robert Edwards (1964)

is Of particular imerest as indicating Jong

occupation of the camping place at Marion on the

Sturt River which he calls Warriparri’, A part of

the area is suill preserved as a park, bul a shopping

centre now dominates the scene. Indications are of

the permanent presence of water supplies und large

red-gum irees margining the winding stream bed,

There are signs Of very recent o¢eupation, and of

the eroded area there are some stone iiiplenients

of the Kartan phase ol ocewpalion, indicating the

presence of people well before the last cold phase

of the Wisvensinanoar Last lee Age. Iris more than

unlikely (hat the period recalled. by the Tjirbyuk)

story goes very far back but it does Suepest (hal (he

Adelaide plains hid already been subject ta man’s

attention long before che days of Vjirbrukt.

Studies of some other places wentloned ti our

story are being developed under [he auspices ol the

Anthropological Soviely of South Australia, KReecar

work has been summarized in a work under ihe

editorship of Betty Ross (984). Lt rndicetes samme

ol the fascinating details which can be gleaned on

the ecology and prehistory of ate First Australians

ity their adjustment to the ollen harsh, but

sometunes eich, environment in which they lived.

ENDNOTTS

Ltn thls paper When iidividual Aboruringl words and

Hanes wee merioned tor the first time they ure trunseribeat

Ih (hternahonal Phoneties as set our fy ery beak op

Australi ibes PP inky 1974) 2) and placed wirtile syuate

brackets. Wher used (hereafter they are viven in vlose

convenlonal farm, wil place faites in partieular

following the rrardaies of Ceayraphic O spelling.

2 The spelling (uthakif was used liimy frst published

SCOUT OF This legend (Tindate-& Mountford (936), 4

6 WOW clear thal | Cjirbrukil is more acceptable iy view

of the semumtivs involved, ‘Thus ‘Chirlerukr is the bese

alailifle conventional spelling,

FIGURE 2. An Aboriginal encampment, probably near the Adelaide foothills, 1854. Alexander

Schramm, courtesy Art Gallery of South Australia, Adelaide (Accession No. 761HP1).

3. The v mark set over some T, t and d consonants

indicates that that part of the word should be spoken with

the tip of the tongue between the teeth. It may be of

interest to readers that the interdental series of sounds were

first drawn to the attention of two anthropologists who

were attempting to attain a satisfactory pronunciation,

when the Jarildekald Aboriginal Karlowan, who was one

of the main informants for the story of Tjirbruki, at a

critical moment exclaimed ‘Stick your tongue out, man!’

REFERENCES

EDWARDS, R. 1964. A former Aboriginal camp-site on

the Sturt River at Marion, South Australia. Mankind

6(4): 184-188.

MEYER, H. A. E. 1843. ‘Vocabulary of the Language

Spoken by the Aborigines of the Southern and Eastern

Portions of the Settled Districts . . . in the Vicinity of

Encounter Bay’. Adelaide.

ROSS, B. 1984. ‘Aboriginal and Historic Places Around

Metropolitan Adelaide and the South Coast’.

Anthropological Soc. S. Aust., Adelaide.

SMITH, W. R. 1930. ‘Myths and Legends of the Australian

Aborigines’. Harrap & Co., London.

TINDALE, N. B. 1937. Two legends of the Ngadjuri tribe

from the Middle North of South Australia. Trans. R.

Soc. S. Aust. 61: 149-153.

TINDALE, N. B. 1941. Native songs of the Southeast of

South Australia, Part II. Trans. R. Soc. S. Aust. 65: 235.

TINDALE, N. B. 1974. ‘Aboriginal Tribes of Australia’.

University of California Press, Berkeley.

TINDALE, N. B. & MOUNTFORD, C. P. 1936. Results

of the excavation of Kongarati cave near Second Valley,

South Australia. Rec. S. Aust. Mus. 5(4): 487-502.

PANARAMITTEE MAGIC

BY R. M. BERNDT

Summary

This contribution concerns the well-known rock-engraving identified by C. P. Mountford as the

Panaramittee “crocodile head’, and often cited as evidence of the existence of that creature in

southern Australia during prehistoric times. On the basis of Aboriginal information obtained in the

early 1940s, its interpretation as a yarida magical object provides a different view of what

Aborigines believed it to be. Discussion places this engraved design and what it signifies within its

socio-cultural context, along with the mythological accounts that substantiate the relevance of this

object. The major focus is on a description of two Aboriginal drawings of the ‘crocodile head’ as a

yarida, and the meaning of its various designs. In order to understand how the object was used, the

theory and technique of relevant sorcery, particularly in so far as dead person’s fat is concerned, are

outlined. While this paper does not refute any speculation on what the original intention of the

engraving may have been, it makes clear that the Ngadjuri, in whose territory the engraving was

previously located, it was a representation of a magical object that has a history of human use and

significance.

PANARAMITTEE MAGIC

R. M. BERNDT

BERNDT, R. M. 1987. Panaramittee magic. Rec. S. Aust. Mus, 20: 15-28.

This contribution concerns the well-known rock-engraving identified by C. P. Mountford as

the Panaramittee ‘crocodile head’, and often cited as evidence of the existence of that creature

in southern Australia during prehistoric times. On the basis of Aboriginal information obtained

in the early 1940s, its interpretation as a yarida magical object provides a different view of what

Aborigines believed it to be. Discussion places this engraved design and what it signifies within

its socio-cultural context, along with mythological accounts that substantiate the relevance of

this object. The major focus is on a description of two Aboriginal drawings of the ‘crocodile

head’ as a yarida, and the meaning of its various designs. In order to understand how the object

was used, the theory and technique of relevant sorcery, particularly in so far as dead person’s

fat is concerned, are outlined. While this paper does not refute any speculation on what the

original intention of the engraving may have been, it makes clear that for the Ngadjuri, in whose

territory the engraving was previously located, it was a representation of a magical object that

has a history of human use and significance.

R. M. Berndt, Emeritus Professor, Department of Anthropology, University of Western Australia,

Nedlands, Western Australia 6009, Manuscript received 25 November 1986.

I began working with Barney Waria in 1939, and

continued from time to time after that until 1944,

Mostly we talked together in Light Square,

occasionally at my father’s home in Rose Park, and

in 1942 at Murray Bridge when he was staying with

his old Yaraldi friend, Albert Karloan. My wife and

I had been banned from entering Point Pearce

Aboriginal settlement when Barney was living there.

(We had criticized the actions of a United

Aborigines’ Mission (UAM) missionary, including

his showing of secret-sacred objects to school

children at Ooldea. After that we were officially

barred from a number of Aboriginal reserves,

including Point McLeay, although these were not

under UAM control.) However, he and _ his

relatives came outside the ‘gates’ to talk with us.

But Light Square was our usual meeting place, as

it was for many ‘West End’ Aborigines and

Aboriginal visitors to Adelaide.

One day in April 1944, after spending some time

sitting talking in the Square, Barney and | walked

together down North Terrace to visit the South

Australian Museum. On our way through the

Aboriginal gallery, we paused to look at the

engraved Panaramittee ‘crocodile’ stone (see Fig. 1

which is of the original engraving that was then on

display). Barney told me that this was ‘the magic

spirit stick’. Opening his arms wide as if to embrace

the gallery of objects, he added, ‘It’s wonderful that

we can look at all these things and know their

meanings, wonderful to think of the power and the

songs and the ritual associated with them, to think

about all that has gone. But what they were, lives

only in the minds of few of us!’.

I had discussed this ‘magic stick’ with Barney

earlier on, at Murray Bridge. He had raised the

matter himself. He told me this engraving was not

a ‘crocodile’ head at all. Having been intrigued by

C. P. Mountford’s trip to Yunta and by his

discovery, not least because of the publicity it

received in the local press of 1938, as elsewhere (see

Mountford 1929: 243-248 and Mountford &

Edwards 1962: 97-99), I was interested in what

Barney had to say. He first drew for me a rough

sketch of this object in chalk on brown paper. As

a result, I wrote to Mr H. M. Hale, the Director

of the Museum (since I was at that time an

Honorary Ethnologist); and he kindly sent me, not

only the photograph already noted (Fig. 1), but also

some sketches of the so-called ‘crocodile head’.

Figures 2 and 3 reproduce two of these, the first

‘tthe present rock surface’ and the second ‘the newer

engravings’. My intention was not to detract from

Mountford’s speculation about what the engraving

might mean. My interest was in obtaining an

Aboriginal explanation. I should perhaps note that

I mentioned this to Mountford, who was upset

about my intention to do this. In the circumstances,

and because he was then a friend of mine, I agreed

not to publish at that time any information I might

obtain on the object. After all those years, however,

it seems important that the material should now be

made available, and I feel that I owe it to Barney’s

memory to put it on record. I doubt whether any

other living person, Aboriginal or non-Aboriginal,

would know about what I propose to write here,

and certainly not from his point of view.

16 R. M. BERNDT

FIGURE 1. Rock-engraving of the Panaramittee ‘crocodile

head’. (Photo courtesy South Australian Museum, 1942.)

BARNEY WARIA AND NGADJURI COUNTRY

Barney Waria (waria is a term meaning ‘second

child’ of his parents; sometimes now spelt

Warrior’), after he was circumcised (became a

vadnaba), was named Ngadjibuna (or Ngad-

jelibuna), which means ‘give nothing away’

(referring to the secrecy of the Law). He was born

at Orroroo in Ngadjuri country in 1873, and in 1943

was 70 years of age — a birthday that we celebrated

with a Chinese lunch in Hindley Street. Barney

(Fig. 4) was a gararu matri-moiety man whose

{

WH,

)

}

1 \ 2

]

id Be

FIGURE 2. Sketch of the Panaramittee design, part of

which has disappeared. (Courtesy South Australian

Museum, 1942.)

‘meat’ (or ‘totemic’ affiliation) was curlew, wud/aru

and wada rat. The first served to aid him in times

of need, as well as acting as a spirit-familiar. His

father, Ned Edwards, was part-Aboriginal, part-

Afghan, born at the Boli Aboriginal camp near

Gladstone: he was killed in a dray accident at the

age of 60 years, when Barney was six or seven years

old. Barney’s mother was Emily Lamb, also part-

Aboriginal, born at ‘Yonggala’ station out from

Jamestown and Terowie. She died ‘naturally’, aged

PANARAMITTEE MAGIC 17

‘

’

/ 34 a

‘ - . .

yar we le a ae

/ >:

of *

PA .

¥. ' e

( ‘

H ‘

; i |

\ rt

sk : e é

FIGURE 3. Sketch of the Panaramittee design, depicting

what were regarded as being later engravings. (Courtesy

South Australian Museum, 1942.)

60 years, when Barney was about 30 years old.

Barney travelled widely in the middle-north of

South Australia, went north as far as Oodnadatta,

and up the Birdsville track into Queensland several

times. He had been living at Point Pearce for 10

to 12 years prior to 1943: he died in 1948. Tindale

(1937: 149) reported having worked with Barney

who was on a brief visit to Adelaide: at that time,

Tindale said, Barney was ‘a middle-aged man’. In

1937 Barney would have been 64 years old, although

of course Tindale could have spoken with him

earlier. Barney was a perceptive and thoughtful man

with a large repertoire of traditional knowledge that

! could only sample. One difficulty was that while

I was engrossed with the Yaraldi, my wife and I were

also working with a wide range of Adelaide

Aboriginal people of differing socio-cultural

antecedents who were either resident in or visiting

Adelaide. Barney’s interest in his own traditional

background did not deflect him from a lively

concern about world affairs (at that time dominated

by World War II), and he also played an active part

in supporting claims for recognition of Aboriginal

rights.

Originally, according to Barney, the Ngadjuri

(ngadlu, we; yuri, person) occupied more or less the

same span of country as noted by Tindale (1940:

180). It stretched south to Angaston and Gawler;

and along with the Adelaide people, they were

probably the first groups to suffer the full impact

of alien intrusion. Their territory to the north

included Panaramittee and Yunta. The Balaklava

area was not part of the Ngadjuri country but was

settled by the Widninga. Tindale said this was a

Negadjuri term for the Kauna (or Kona, as I call

them), the Adelaide people. However, my

information suggests that the Widninga did not

identify themselves as Kona. The Wetara family,

along with some others, were Widninga; their

country adjoined that of the Ngadjuri as it did that

of the Nukana, ranging along the gulf coast with

its main base at Port Germein. There were rich

fishing grounds within that area, and the Ngadjuri

would join the Nukuna, seasonally, to exploit their

resources. On the north too, the Ngadjuri interacted

closely with people belonging to territories called

by Tindale (1940) Jadliaura and Wailpi. As far as

the Ngadjuri were concerned, the territories and

people of those two groups were Adnyamatana

(Adnyamathanha or Anyamatha) or, alternatively,

Gunyumata (adnya or gunya or ganya meant stone;

mata, people [belonging to]), referring to people

who lived in the hilly and stony country. Barney said

that, with the reduction of Ngadjuri numbers after

European settlement of the region, those remaining

either scattered across the country, living in the

main townships, or joined the Adnyamatana. He

added that culturally they were similar, with a

common language but different dialects. On the

north-east of the Ngadjuri were (as Tindale called

them) the Wiljakali. The Ngadjuri called them

Yandagali, again referring to stony country: most of

their territory was on the New South Wales side and

included Broken Hill. In general terms, Barney saw

little difference between the Adnyamatana and the

Wailpi (Wailpimathana) and his own group. The

name Jadliaura was not mentioned.

18 R. M. BERNDT

FIGURE 4. Barney Waria (or Warrior), 1943. (WU/P17182 Photo: R. M. Berndt.)

A LAND FULL OF MYTHS

The mytho-topographical perspective of the

Ngadjuri was extensive. However, | mention this

only briefly, mainly to provide some background

to our discussion of ‘the magic stick’. For instance,

there were a number of spirit beings, The

wundawinyu were fond of teasing people by

throwing pebbles at them as they sat quietly in the

sun or rested by their fires at night; they lived in

the creeks and in the thick clumps of ti-tree.

Mungiura were to be found in the hilly country:

occasionally they would peer over the top of a

windbreak, and if their faces were seen, that would

indicate an impending storm. Small human-like

creatures called muripapa danced around in circles

on misty mornings; and after a couple of days,

round grassy patches could be seen, made by their

dancing feet. They were believed to lead people

astray, even to make them mad, or to abduct their

children. At night, when they usually came, people

would build up their camp fires and throw sap from

the wuara yacca bush into the flames to keep them

away. Epa-tura, on the other hand, although they

could be seen on hot hazy days, would do no harm:

they were engrossed in cooking bu/kara sandalwood

grubs, and it was the smoke from their fires that

caused the haze.

Generally, these spirits were said to have been in

Ngadjuri country prior to the ‘arrival’ of the

Dreaming characters: the actual sites they

frequented were not specifically noted. In contrast

to them was the mythic Mirlki giant who left a large

footprint in a creek at a place named Mundjapi (or

Mandjapi), near Mt Jibbi (or Yibbi, Mt Bryan) out

from Hallett, north of Burra. In the creative era of

the Dreaming, there were a large number of people

living in this area. In fear of Mirlki, they fled north

and entered a cave about six miles south-east of

Orroroo (Ar-ru), and walked underground

northward to Bukalavi (Bindalbe), near Carrieton.

Ngadjuri country, like all the Lake Eyre Basin,

was criss-crossed with mythic tracks. The large

Akaru (Rainbow Snake) came south from Wilpena

Pound (Wilpinundu) which he/she made. Akaru

was also manifested as a willy-willy (ngadladara).

PANARAMITTEE MAGIC 19

On seeing him/her emerging from a waterhole, in

this form, people would call out ‘Bungari muta!’

(country/belonging to [mata]): and Akaru would

turn away — he/she would do harm only to

strangers. Like Akaru, Inawala, Perentie, came

south from Lake Frome.

There were a number of myths concerning Akaru,

who was invariably associated with waterholes and

lakes, as well as water courses. One of these was

said to have a head like a dog, with a hairy mane,

and a body coloured in red and black. This

monstrous Snake had a companion, a small

babulara red snake that served to warn him/her of

approaching strangers. Another, Wiperu (Whip

Snake), was a well-known mythic figure who was

originally in human form. He came from Tea Tree

(on Lake Frome) to Tooth’s Knob, where he

camped. Then he went on to a waterhole, and then

to a small hill (about five kilometres south of

Tooth’s Knob). This hill is streaked with the colours

of the rainbow (guringi, ordinary term), and it was

here that Wiperu man painted himself with ochres

and turned into a wiperu snake. In that form he

continued to Coffin Spring, where he bored a hole

in the limestone cliff. This was said to be a perfectly

round depression that always contained water.

Wiperu had come along a salt-water creek, and the

waterhole is on a raised mound: he went into that

place. I was told that Wiperu was a monstrous

snake, and that he lived there peacefully until a

bullock came up the mound to drink. Wiperu,

disturbed, emerged and attempted to swallow the

animal. However, the bullock’s horns stuck in this

throat and he choked to death. He died alongside

the waterhole. Later, his bones were collected by

local Aborigines. For a time, Barney himself had

the immense jaw-bone of this Snake, but this was

eventually lost. Some of the bones were believed to

remain in the waterhole.

Jim Mooney (see below) explained to me how all

the country and rocks within the vicinity of Yunta-

Panaramittee were nearly not there. Yuru (Euro) and

Wudlu (or Kulu as Mooney called this creature),

red kangaroo, both of the same materi moiety, and

their respective groups, were living in the hilly

country. Yuru, however, was there first and ‘owned’

the country; Wudlu had come later. They

quarrelled. Wudlu said the country was far too

rocky. ‘I’m going to make it different!’ So he sang

all the hills and stones away. Yuru didn’t know what

to do; all the hills had disappeared; there were only

plains. So Yuru got hold of a stray stone and blew

on it — and all the hills and rocks came up again,

just as they were before, That is why there are plain

and hill kangaroos and euros who like the rocks.

And the rocks were there for the Budla-bila spirits

to engrave.

The following myth, told by Barney in February

1940, was said by him to substantiate the vadnaba

ritual. However, it had much wider implications,

one of which concerned magic.

Two fully-initiated young men who were also

mindaba (Aboriginal doctors) were of the warumata,

Dreaming. One belonged to the Dieri language group,

the other to the Yandruwanda; and they travelled down

from their respective countries in order to introduce

circumcision to the Ngadjuri. But that intention was

really a secondary one. They had really left their

countries to go in search of Kintjura, the spirit world,

said to be located in the sky, They eventually reached

Port Germein, Then they went on. It was a very windy

day, and they heard a noise that frightened them. They

discovered it was made by the limbs of a tree rubbing

together in the wind, They named the place Inderi

(referring to the sound), Continuing on, they came to

Windamurlku (‘white flower’, so named because an ‘old

man’s beard’ creeper was growing over a black stump).

When they saw this, they thought at first that it was

an old man standing there: ‘Y!’ Yuru nakuka-idla!’

(exclamation/person/look!); ‘kakati windamurlku!’

(black stump/white flower!). Going on, they came to

a place where they heard the sound of someone beating

on the ground. Creeping up, they saw an old man

digging yalka, wild onions, They sang:

yalka narinyenara kunmarindma dandura

onions picking up shaking earth from digging

They went on through scrub country, eventually

coming on to a flat bitana plain. It was very hot, and

a species of bee or wasp, mitji-mitji, annoyed them.

At last they came to the foothills of the Mt Lofty

Ranges, to a high hill called Lingyura. They had

travelled the full length, from north to south, of

Ngadjuri territory and beyond. They climbed the hill,

and from it looked southward. They saw many people,

the Lingyura spirit people. They came down, and began

to walk toward them, But the Lingyura called out to

them to go back. And they sang:

lingyura lingyura wunmamara wunmamara.. .

spirit people go back

The two mindaba were told they were not ready,

not suitably prepared to enter Kintjura. So they

turned back, but not before they received from the

Lingyura certain magical objects, among them the

‘magic stick’. The Lingyura, Barney said, were

Dreaming spirits, not wonggabi (or wungyapi),

spirits of dead persons. Eventually, the latter would

find their way to Kintjura, but would, from time

to time, return to their grave sites. Only mindaba

could see these spirits, both the Lingyura and the

wonggabi. The wonggabi’s association with a dead

person’s fat is mentioned below.

THE YARIDA

After his vadnaba and wilyaru (cicatrization),

Barney had some preliminary training in activities

20 R, M. BERND

thal usually concerned a mindaha, ovainly iw

healing and in sorcery, alchough he never considered

himsell in any sense proficient in the latter. The

knowledge he assimilated on sorcery came trom his

daniuti, mother’s father (pater), a Ngadjuri man

named Gudjari who died in about 1900. He was

the last of the old men who knew the meaning and

ritual of the ‘magi stick’, Traditionally, several years

after a young man’s wilywra, and if he tad shown

considerable interest in magical matters, a watdaha

with some of his colleagues would take him out into

the bush (see R, Berndt 1941) 376-377). Here the

postulant was red-ochred and smeared all over with

dead person’s lat; windamalka wood shavings

would be placed round his head, held fast by an

ungari, or manga Sur twine cord, and wilka-wdla

dog tails arrariged so that they hung trom each side

of his face, The mindaba taught him how to bring

ona situation of trance and, ii that vontest, to talk

with spirits, Me was also informed wbourt various

forms Of magical healing and sorcery and,

especially, how ta control his own spirit, how to

make it leave his body during a trance. Further, le

would be instructed in the art of divination during

an inquest that took place after a person's death

to discover who was magically responsible. Lt was

only Mindaba with this sort of knowledge who were

ha position to handle the ‘magic stick’ If anyone

else were to-artempt to touch it, let alone manipulate

i, that would cause madness,

The two young spirit mindaba, as we have seen,

were credited Witt first obtaining the ‘magic stick!

from the Lingyura, However, Barney said that it was

really introduced into Ngadjuri country from the

north-east a ‘long time ago’ (widmekara, in contrast

to warkmata that specifically refers to the

Dreaming), from ‘the snow country’ called Bulayata

It is probable that this is the place referred to by

Tindale (1937; 150, nore 1) as Buthajerta (Mt

Patawerta) i the Flinders Range, which he said

meant in Ngadjuri ‘snow counlry’ since vecasionally

snow lies on this mountain during winter, On the

other hand, the country around Yunra,

Panaramittee, Manna Hill, as far as Bimbowrie

(Bombowie), was rocky and contains many rock

engravings, Aniong these lived two spirits named

Budla-bila, They could be seen on sunny mornings,

and were responsible for causing mirages (narra

gubi, lresh water, because they looked like that),

These rock engravings were said to have been made

in the creative era of the Dreaming, and

traditionally there were songs-associated with many

of the figures depicted. The famous Panuramitiee

stone, identilied by Mountford as a crocodile head,

Was said to be really a_variee that had been engraved

by the Budla-bila, To accomplish that task they used

quartz chisels from stone obtained from Waren hill,

Where Baglehawk’'s leg injury had festered and

finally burst, and the matter from it formed the

quartz deposit (see the first Eaglehawk and Craw

myth below),

The varida was made from a shaped piece of

wood, Of wuelwitt cane was bent into the

appropriate shape. In cither case, specially treated

human hair and possum fur twine were used, The

first drawing, Fig, 5, is reproduced from (he original

one in white ehalk on brown paper and is 30 vm

in Jength. Wb was drawn at Murray Bridge in 1942,

hefore | had obtained the original photograph and

outline sketches of the engravings from (he South

Australian Museum. The object, if it had been made

by a mindahe, would have measured, so | was told,

60-80 cm in length, / tote, it represented the spirit

body ola human person, alihough ‘within il’ were

many other things,

The annotation of the drawing, by Barney, is as

Follows, The varida has a handle (1). One end of

a length of Hunan hair twine is attached frnily al

(2) with bukara-pitii, a sandalwood gum, to the

PIGURE S. Sketch of the first dmewing af the varida magic

object by Barney Waria, 1942, Nunybered features are

explamed in rexr

PANARAMITTEE MAGIC 21

backbone of the yarida’s body. The twine then runs

up the main trunk, turns to the left, then to the right

(3), on to the left and right, linking with the yadna-

walpu, the backbone (4), where it is again fastened

with gum at (5). The twine is looped and is then

taken down the right-hand side, zig-zagging (6) until

it reaches (7) where it is gummed down, leaving one

akuri hair (8). The spirit’s eyes (mena) are (9); its

ngarada-walpu, forehead is (10); and within the

space between the two vertical lines (11), at each side

of the backbone, is the yadna-bandji, the fleshy part

of the backbone. Horizontal bands (12) are bilda-

manga, cross-pieces of possum fur twine. The

spiril’s heart, yuku, is at (13). The human hair twine

can be moved to various parts of the symbolized

body, at (14), for instance: these are ‘corners’,

located around the object, as on the left-hand side,

and in the drawing they are attached to the arms

(top) and legs (bottom) of the designated victim.

The second drawing by Barney (Fig. 6) is also

reproduced from the original of white chalk on

brown paper, and is approximately 32 cm in length.

It too was drawn at Murray Bridge, but after the

sketches of the engraving had been received. As will

be noted, it resembles closely Figs 2 and 3. Barney

took care in reproducing this, since he wanted to

explain the meaning of its various sections. It too

is a yarida.

FIGURE 6. Sketch of the second drawing of the yarida

magic object by Barney Waria, 1942. Numbered features

are explained in text.

As in Fig. 5, the whole object represents the body

of a spirit. Basically, there is the head (at top) and

the ‘handle’ (at bottom). A miniature representation

of a wonggabi spirit (manifested from a dead

person’s fat: see below) has been drawn in skeletal

form at (1); (2) is its chest (or rib bones) and (3)

its miti, buttocks. This wonggabi sits on a loose

thread of human hair twine (4), while (5) represents

the internal organs of a prospective victim. The

length of human hair (4) joins the main twine (6)

at (7) on the right-hand side and extends upward

to the central body of the yarida, as does its

companion main twine (6) on the left-hand side:

these main strings are iti-malka (or yiti-malka).

Horizontal lines (ma/ka, marks), from (8) to (9),

represent the long streaks of debris (leaves, twigs

and earth etc.) that have been formed on the ground

after heavy rain: they are called wonda-malka. The

same term and meaning are associated with the long

wind-blown streaks of cloud that were said to be

relevant to the yarida — although it is not clear in

what way.

Two eyes are located at the head of the yarida;

on the left-hand side is a normal eye (10), while (11)

is an outline of the hollow eye of a victim through

which a wonggabi spirit peers after having entered

the victim’s body. The inner circle (12) with its dots

is called ‘the face’ — wonda-kunyu-mangu (spirit-

white-face) — referring to that of the wonggabi of

the yarida: the dots refer to two eyes, mena; the

nose, mudla; cheek bones, ngu/kana; and mouth,

yaga. The area between the rim of (12) and (11) is

the mena-batu, swollen eye, when a victim becomes

hollow-eyed during illness.

The area marked (13) is associated specifically

with female victims. A leg, yalku-atuni (leg/woman)

is depicted at (14), with waltjeri (15), intestines

and/or entrails; and aka, vagina (16). A length of

hair twine is placed on a woman’s leg, to cripple

her temporarily — if she has been running about

after men. A biri, a fibre or twine hook is placed

at (17), and immediately beneath it a karawalpu

club (18) that is used to kill a person by striking

a heavy blow at the back of the head. Like all

aspects mentioned, they are anointed with dead

person’s fat. Five marks indicated (19) are gudna,

excreta of a victim, mixed with human hair, red-

ochre and dead person’s fat. This really symbolizes

excreta (faeces) of the mythic Crow, and also has

relevance to the Milky Way (see below). However,

these same marks are also said to be the tracks of

iti-iti (or yiti-viti), a small lizard that has this design

(iti-malka) on its body. In early mythic times, Iti-

iti was a man, a great climber of trees; he is

associated with this form of sorcery. But the marks

can refer to a man stepping along lightly, like a

child. Its basic meaning is said to concern Crow.

Above the hollow eye (11), an area (20) divided

22 kM. BERNDT

vertically by a piece of twine represents a ‘club" fool,

an idnabaiu (or yidnabalv) that has been eaten

away by disease magie; the calf iy ac (21), and the

heel, mak, at (22), The penis, wari, is shown at

(23), and (24) represents three different banes {rom

a human skeleion. The temple, wingen, of the

spirit's forehead, “garada-walpu, is drawn at (245)

as a circle. From (25) running right is a tepre-

sentation of a mind? cat’s-cradle (27) that is under

(that Is within) the top of the spirit’s head (26) —

from (28) to {29}, across; from (30) w (34)

downward, across and including the wingeu. This

mindi \s really a net in which a victim may be

caught. The wingegu, however, is also located in the

Milky Way as a black ares, while in the same

constellation the winda-gudru is Crow's faeces: this

takes \wo positions in the Milky Way. 0 is on the

eastern side during winter, on the western side

during suowner. A large black patch is the spirit that

comes to a mindabe “when the Milky Way turns’

and helps him in his act af sorcery. The main strings

(6) of the varia represent tracks of mythie beings

— for instance, the Budla-bila ag well ag Crow and

Vulu, Kingfisher — whe travelled in Ngadjuri

country. The myths associated with them were

re-told from one yarida Iwine-join to anorker —

that is, from (8) to (9), from one horizontal band

to the next, until reaching below the eyes, (10) and

(ih).

On the top lefi-hand side, ‘a kind of creature’ is

shown (32); this is a slate-grey small bul bird

regarded as being important in magic. [t was also

suggested that (his could be Yuli as a human being;

he was the mythic patron of the vadnaba or malgara

circumcision rituals and responsible for introducing

them.

At (33) is what Barney called the loose end of

the maln body of the yariaa. In Fig. 6 thig ss drawn

in with broken lines, and represents a hair from the

twine. The horizontal and vertical strings form the

backbone and the ribs (34) of the spirit, Afanga fur

twine is fastened and tied at (35), and is represented

by two pairs of ovals: these may easily be untied

and moved to. any part of a victim's body, A further

loose end (36) was indicated by Barney, as in the

case of (33). The akurt (or akadi, head) human hair

(Wine (37) runs through (or is tireaded through or

(ied to) all Lhe other strings, holsing them together

(that is, the string that surrounds the whole of the

yarida), There are two holes (38) through the wood

or yarida trame, called wad/u, nostrils, chrough

‘which the string(s) is/are threaded in order to be

brought up the backbone of the varie, At the

bottom (or handle) are mgaldia, bubbles of saliva

or froth (39) coming from the yvietiay’s miouth as

he lies dying: of, on some-cecasions, spittle that can

be collected for use in sorcery.

As will be appreeimted, alchouyh this deseription

of the significance of the parida is reasonably

detailed, it could no doubt have been considerably

elaborated i! Barney had been brought up in i

living-traditional context, As itis, there is sufficient

information to substantiate his contentian Chat

Mountford’s ‘crocodile’ was in fact a varida — at

least to him, whatever it may have been to his early

ancestors or to the Budla-bila! Ina way, the parida

is a smal] graphic ‘handbook! on sorcery! but not

entirely sa, since it alsa provides clues to (he wider

frame of Negadjuri religious belief, referring as it

daes to mythic characters and, especially, to the

re-telling of their adventures by way of the object’s

strings,

How Tith YARiDA Was USED

While use oF the yarida is already noted in tts

description, Barney's grandparent, after having

made it, would hold itup by the ‘handle’ and speak

to i, “Yuro nekuga anawatin mangguga!” (mat

[name] /you see/that one/catch him). Talking ter it,

and repealing ‘Yure manggugal (Catch a man!) he

felt the strings trembling in his band: ‘They seemed

to tell him, “Yes"". The yeride koew what man to

vet! Then he put the stick away, hiding it. Later,

on a pleasant sunny morning, he took out the

varida and put it in the sun (dendu yundunga

wondekutn [in suo/on ground/he puts it]) to wari

it ‘The spirit of the varide is looking for the victim’

(that is, searching for hirt or her). Already the string

has been placed on a particular part of the victim's

symbolic body; the spirit finds the victim and enters

him, and his/her illness commences, He/she

becomes increasingly wl (mingga} and dies

(vindatha),

After a successful undertaking, the sorcerer

smears (‘paints’) the strings of the yerida with dead

person's fac and red-ochre: Mud/u yakuede

mangkukal ngudla kale yarida wonditkiale

(kangaroo skin/bag/he got/put/into/magte

stick ‘put away), When not in use, it is wrapped up

in possum fur and tied up with red-ochred twine,

Elaborstiig, Barney said that when his grandparent

used the words ‘nangguga enawalihuna yure

mangeusa! (catch him/that onethere/man/catch)

he feld a shock run down his hand from the string

he held- this indivated that the varida spirit hact left

the object and had hit the victim. His grandfather

promised to give Barney his varida; he knew where

it Was hidden ina cave, but did not tell me at what

place. He told me he would get it and give it to me,

However, soon afterward he returned to Point

Pearce and t went north to carry out further

anthropological research.

In short, then, to operate the yarida, a sorcerer

held it in his hand or placed ht before him on the

PANARAMITTEE MAGIC 23

ground; or, sometimes, put it on hot ashes protected

by a bed of green boughs. The heat intensified its

magical potency. A yarida string had to be placed

on the appropriate limb or part of a victim’s body

represented in the object’s design. As the yarida was

manipulated and special songs were sung (songs

that Barney, unfortunately, did not remember), the

wonggabi spirit left the yarida by way of the relevant

length of string and went directly to its quarry. If

a string indicated the victim’s heart, death would

be instantaneous. Alternatively, if a string indicated

a gradual illness, it was said, that would ‘wear you

down to skin and bones, you just couldn’t recover!’.

THE ARENA OF SORCERY

An essential element in the performance of this

form of sorcery was dead person’s fat. Unless the

strings were anointed with this substance, the magic

would not be effective. Moreover, without the

anointing of the strings and the object, the

wonggabi spirit could not be present to carry out

its allotted task. That spirit entered through the fat.

In other words, it was the spirit of the dead person

himself or herself, seeking to avenge his/her own

death or injury, under the control of a mindaba.

In ordinary circumstances, Barney said, Ngadjuri

removed a little fat from a deceased person’s

stomach and it was eaten by his/her close relatives,

especially by grandchildren. Belief had it, that the

deceased’s spirit would enter the eater’s body and

protect him or her where need be. However, the

human fat used in sorcery was not of this kind, It

had to be removed from a person killed by sorcery

and/or in the course of a revenge expedition. This

meant that the fat was obtained through a magical

operation before the victim died. The fat was then

left to dry, wrapped in bark or grass and kept

hidden away in a cave to become putrefied, when

it could be used.

Barney mentioned a case that had occurred at

Burra when he was a young man. Bita people (as

he called them; probably Tindale’s Ngaiaweng) from

Morgan on the River Murray came to attend

ceremonies (generally called kuri) arranged by the

Negadjuri. Instead, there was a lot of talk concerning

suspected deaths through sorcery, accusations were

made, and fighting broke out between the two

groups. Some Ngadjuri men went over to the Bita

‘mob’ and killed and injured several of them without

giving any reason for doing so. A further meeting

was arranged later to find out why they were killed.

In retaliation, the Bita sorcerers attempted to

preform mildina (called ‘bruising’ and referring to

the form of sorcery that involved pounding a

victim’s chest with a club). After much ill-feeling,

the matter was resolved by holding a kopara (a

widespread term in the Lake Eyre Basin also used

by the Ngadjuri, for a ritual resolution of conflict:

see R, Berndt 1965: 183-186). Fat that could be used

in yarida sorcery was removed from the persons

killed in this fighting.

In another example, said Barney, a man named

Old Graham was sorcerized by mildina. Apparently,

this happened at Port Germein in Nukuna country.

On returning to Clare where he lived, he became

ill and lay down in his camp. He was so obviously

sick that his relatives took him to the Clare hospital.

I was told that the European doctors who attended

to him were at a loss to know what was the matter

with him. After a few days he died. However, they

asked a mindaba (I believe this was Barney’s

grandfather) to diagnose the cause of death. With

the permission of the European doctors, the

mindaba cut open the dead man’s stomach and

reported that his intestines were tied up with grass

fibre and that among them were fragments of

crystal and broken bottles. The mindaba also

observed that a hole had been made on the left-

hand side of the stomach, a bone having been

inserted to extract kidney fat (wirumani or

wangamani). That fat was later used in sorcery.

In general terms, the fat could be drawn from

either side of a victim’s stomach by using a baya

kangaroo bone, or from the mindati, navel. The

baya was inserted and twisted to remove the fat and,

in the case of a navel, the aperture was tied up with

andu-ildja, wallaby sinew (gandu, rock wallaby); in

other cases, the hole was simply smeared over with

earth or red-ochre. It was also said that the entrails

of a victim under the influence of sorcery could be

removed through the adna-wadju (or mundu-

wadlju), anus, when foreign substances were placed

with it and then put back after tying up the entrails.

In these circumstances, needless to say, the victim

could not defecate (gudna), and would soon die.

The fat was usually removed, so I was told, at

night under special conditions (see below) and in

some cases a bone needle called wa/pu was used.

The victim was first rendered unconscious by a blow

on the head with a tandanaka club previously

‘soaked’ (anointed) with dead person’s fat. The club

was spoken of as ‘a magic stick’, so that the blow

need not be hard. As Barney said, ‘ it is the spirit

of the fat in the “stick” (club) that does the trick’.

The victim was then placed on his back, and his

tongue pulled out and a pointed stick or needle

pressed into it. The two or three mindaba who

might be present spoke to the unconscious man:

‘utna wongguga’ (don't/tell anyone). ‘That victim

knows who has caught him, but is unable to tell

anyone.’ The kidney fat was then removed.

Such acts of sorcery should be carried out only

when the Milky Way, walibari, is propitiously

placed (see Fig. 6): that is, before it is ‘about to turn’,

24 R, M. BERNDT

when all people (except sorcerers) were said to be

asleep. The same belie! was alvo current among

Wuradicri and contiguous groups. (See R. Berne

1947; 64.) The Lime would be aller | a.m., ‘because

then a person is not himselfor herself, his/her spirit

has lemporaruy left fis body or, if nor thea, alter

4 (0 5 am,, again, when everyone is sleeping

soundly, Between [Land 12 pm. and a litte before

4 am., if was the habil ef old men la keep waich

for sorcerers — ‘when the Milky Way was beginning

to wailiky, turn’, There was also a reference to o

person ‘turning’ in his sleep, which the old men

prevented him trom doing. However, | don't

understand the allusion, it was when all the people

were asluep that soreerers were said to be on the

prow], to approach their vietim, and by using tt long

human hair cord, ty loop it found bis arm and

steadily draw him away from the camp, IL was (he

spirit within the core that earried out this task. Onee

away trom the camp, a minduba would knock the

victiny on a small bone called nundi-walpy located

al the back of the head and render him

unconscious. After the kidney fat had been removed

and the aperture sealed, the victim's ears would be

Pilled and blown inte, to prevent him from hearing

anything. The niinidaba would hold hint from the

back and tell him, waggurukakal’ ('Go home!)

pointing in the dircetion he should take and the

victim would return, unsuspectingly, to his own

camp. Within three days he would be dead.

Barney had had (he said) a narrow escape while

camping a5 a young man in the Orroroo districe.

He was with an old man named Bunlipuri and some

young boys, They had made a wulange windhreak

Bullipari slept ar one end and Barney at the other,

with (he boys in the middle in front of a Firs, AL

the turning of che Milky Way, a sorcerer came

sneaking, looking over the windbreak at che

sleeping group, He threw a stotie into the fire

(watugaii adnya mangeugala wiakale: looking

over/slone/picked up/threw) to make sure no one

was awake. Bunlipari and Barney awakened and sew

(he sorcerer peering al them. They lay quietly,

without moving. The sorcerer came rownd ta

Barney's side and bent over him, ready ro place his

hair cord over Barney’s arm. At that moment, both

Barney and his companion jumped up: Barney was

Not quick enough and Bunlipari was too fat, the

sorcerer eseaped — nadkun Vurd (warla angurikul

yudlina batili-bariku angeura (say him/iman/

standing jumped up/chased |him|/quickly got out

of sight [bar referring to an insect thar seullles

away] went home},

SOME PoINTS OF RELEVANCE

In the course ef our discussions, Basney said thal

the Adnyamatana were associated with the Guyant

and offen held meetings at Heltana. Lt was trem

then chat he heard of another ‘gic stick’, crystal

one that Was called praimiu and had the same

properties as did (he parida. It loo was smeared with

dead person’s fat, and through it the wongeuhi

entered che object. When it was held by a sorcerer

and thrown ounvard in the direction of a named

Vietim, lis Magic Would pierce him or her ‘ike a

bullet’,

Lwas also told that, although the Ngadjun varia

was primarily ‘deatth-dealing’, it could be used for

curative purposes as well. Por instance, in cases

where death to a yictim was not intended, ils power

could be negated by removing the striug from the

part of tlre vielin’s body represented on the yarieda,

Further, more direct ctires for sickness not

allribilted ta sercery could be elfected, by placings

asiring on the relevam pari af the body represented

on the verde. However, the string had to be free

from any dead person's fat and, instead, smeared

with emu fat — and that fat was also rubbed all

ayer the afflicted person’s body, This procedure was

said 10 cure severe sores, smallpox and leprosy.

In Spite of thi, pasitive side of the paridi’s power,

i Was Ts MAlieMUnt aspect that was emphasized.

One day while | was sitling talking wilh Barney in

Light Square the matter of Lasseter’s reef was

faised. Barney had visited Qodnadatra and somecne

had told him about fon Tdriess’s book, ‘Lasseter’s

Last Ride’, "You know, Mr Berndt, those prospectors

Went Ou (Oo find Lasseter’s reel They never found

it, because thal verida made them mad, confused:

they vouldu't find their wav tou, Ay the gme | had

not read that book and, in fact, it} was only when

writing this puper thar £ thought I should do so.

The references ta ‘the stick’ appear in Idriess (1948+

belween pages 69-93), However, it seems fairly elear

that The sick” holed there 1s not a beridabut a long

sveret-sacred board; although it was certainly

interpreted by Barney ws the yarida. (1 should

mention (hal Barney was not lilerate and wis told

aboul the Idriess book by a trend.)

PURINER MYTHOLOMECAL BACKGROUND

Miythie Eaglehawk was assoviated with the

Pararamitice engravings, and, as faras the parida

Wat corcerncd, so was Crow. IL seems relevant

therefore Lo give two versions of the Eaglehawk and

Crow myth. Moreover, Tindale (1937: 15|-152) alsa

recorded (he Neadjun one T present here from

Barney) ILas, therelore, of some interest to cormpare

this version with Tindale’s, both from rhe same

man The second Eaglchawk aud Crow myth | give

here is related to Broken Hill and was recorded from

Jim) Moouey-

In the Seadyury) one C wrote down, all creatures were

hutaun beings inthe Dreuming. Wakala, Crow, a gararts

PANARAMITTEE MAGIC 25

moiety man went oul hunting near Orroroo with Wildu,

black Eaglehawk man who was of the mareri moiety.

They obtained meat, but Eaglehawk was greedy and

refused to give any to Crow, Crow was jealous of

Faglehawk because he was strong and able to crush the

twig and stick ‘nests’ of the wada (gararu moiety)

‘house-building’ rats. He therefore obtained a kangaroo

lez bone and, sharpening it at one end, placed it

carefully among the twigs of a rat’s nest with its point

upward, Crow spoke to the bone, telling it that when

Eaglehawk came along it was to move about in order

to make him think that many rats were hidden in the

nest,

Crow called out to Eaglehawk to look at the nest he

had found. He came along, and seeing movements

within it, jumped on the nest. The sharpened bone

(baya) pierced one of his feet, causing a severe wound.

Seeing this, Crow laughed and ran away to Malkara

(near Minburra, north-west of Yunta). Eaglehawk

struggled back to his camp. His wound began to fester.

Nevertheless, he was able to hobble on, following Crow’s

tracks. (Crow was, apparently, accompanied by his

family.) He followed Crow to Yunta and from there,

finding Crow had moved on, went westward to Waruni

(Waroonee, a little north of Yunta railway station). A

light rain began to fall, and looking round for shelter

Eaglehawk saw a cave. However, this was occupied by

Crow and his family, and when they saw Eaglehawk

coming Crow shouted out to him, ‘Go away, your foot

smells!’. So Eaglehawk went some little distance away

and gathered mala, spinifex or porcupine grass, and

carried it back to the mouth of the cave. The rain had

stopped, and Eaglehawk piled it up all around and set

fire to it, throwing on green grass to make a dense while

smoke. He smoked the Crow and his family, and they

turned into birds; that is why (hey are now called wakala

or mena-balkara (mena-nalkara), ‘eye-white’, and they

are black from the fire Eaglehawk made.

Eaglehawk, however, hobbled over and sat at the side

of Waruni Cliff. His sore leg was itching, so he scratched

it. The pus, gaba, burst out and ran down the side of

the cliff. Today, it is metamorphosed as white quartz

(vudla-gadna). lt was this material that was made into

chisels and used to engrave the rocks of this area.

Eaglehawk then turned into a bird.

Eaglehawk’s father, Mura, Red Hawk of the gararu

moiety, had in the meantime been hunting rats, cutting

up the meat and cooking it — because he knew what

would happen. His son came swooping down from

Waruni, calling out, ‘Where are all the people? 1 want

to eat them!’. His father replied, ‘Don’t eat people, eat

rats!’, And he threw up a piece of rat's flesh that his

son refused to eat. Eaglehawk swooped down three

times, crying that he wanted human flesh. Each time,

his father offered him rat meat; at last he ate some.

‘That is why Eaglehawk swoops down for his food!’

While the two versions, Tindale’s and mine, are

reasonably close in their renderings, there are some

interesting differences, and one of these concerns

using the quartz for rock engraving. Crow, too, was

said to be a cunning creature. He preferred to injure

Eaglehawk by means of a ruse instead of by direct

confrontation and, although this is not mentioned

in the myth, used sorcery to achieve his goal.

The other Eaglehawk and Crow myth was given

to me by Jim (James) Mooney with whom I worked,

mainly on genealogies, in March 1944. He was born

at Bimbowrie station, north-east of Manna Hill, in

1864. His father was Bob Mooney, a European who

worked on that station; and his mother was Jane

or Jinny Yalta-yalta or Yalta, meaning ‘many stones

or a stone’, since she had been born in the stony

country of the Wilyakali (Wiljakali). However,

Barney said she was a Ngadjuri and had been born

at Black Rock in Yamba-muta country near Broken

Hill, named Wilyama Hill, ‘where all the silver came

from!’. The story Jim Mooney told is as follows:

A quarrel had begun between two mythic beings and

members of their respective groups. A large meeting

had been called, and all the creatures who attended were

human beings in the Dreaming. One group were all of

the same matri-moiety, materi or makwara (the eastern

term) to which Wariku, Eaglehawk belonged; and the

other moiety group was gararu or kilpara (the eastern

term) to which Wokala, Crow, belonged. The two

groups Were arguing. Eaglehawk accused Crow that he

and his group were not following ‘the old Law’.

(Mooney told me that Wokala, also called Ku-eiyara,

the light-eyed crow of the ki/para moiety was different

from Waaku, or Wagu, the dark-eyed crow of the

makwara moiety.)

It all arose from a large number of people dying; at

first, more men than women; then more male children

were being born, and more female children were dying.

More women died, and many men were left without

wives; many women were left without husbands. At this

time, too, people married within and not outside their

moiety categorization; no one could marry a person

of the opposite moiety — that was Eaglehawk’s Law.

Eaglehawk did not want people to die.

One person got up and spoke to Eaglehawk. ‘Why

shouldn't these people die? If they have to die now, they

can come back later after a certain time!’ [That is, be

reborn.| ‘No,’ replied Eaglehawk, ‘They must come back!’

[That is, in the same form as when they died.] So they

continued to argue. At last Crow got up and said, ‘There

are more men than women in one of our groups, why

shouldn’t we marry them? [That is, from outside our

group.) If one of our “religion” [that is Law, moiety

group] dies, let him or her die and his “tribal” brother

can take his widow as wife; or the husband find another

wile!’ Eaglehawk, however, would not agree: he wanted

a man on dying to return after three days to his own

wife; or a wife on dying to return to her own husband,

The quarrel continued; nothing definite was decided

and the meeting broke up.

Sometime afterward, Crow came on Eaglehawk’s

camp in the course of his travels. Eaglehawk had gone

out hunting and left his son behind: he was preparing

the meat his father had caught. Crow said to the son,

‘T’m very hungry, will you give me some of that meat?’

‘No,’ the son replied. ‘How will he know some has gone?

I only want a little bit!’ Crow asked. ‘Yes, he will know,’

the son answered. ‘If you eat some of that meat he will

know. He uses a spear in hunting for his meat and if

you were to eat some his spear will break!’ But Crow

took no notice, he grabbed some and ate; then he took

R. M_ BERNDT

mone and finished vt all up. He told Eaglehawk’s son

to fo down co the creek Por wane While he was away,

Crow picked up a sione whicl he made redshol in the

oven's ashes, On his eeturn, rie boy looked round tor

Crow, but couldn't see lim. "Where are yau'’ be valled.

‘Here | am,’ answered Crow, ‘Where?’ the boy called

again, holding ‘his head well back, callifig Gul and

looking around. Crow began to Sing and the boy danced

coward him. ‘Look wp! Crow said, As he did sa, Crow

threw (he red-hot stone into |he boy's open mouth,

choking hin, He died

Eaglehawk's spear had broken, just as the boy had

said jt would. He knew that something had gone wrong

al his camp and hurned back, In (he meantime, Craw

hina re-arranged the camp, puuting the boy’s hady by

the lire; raking track marks to indicate thar fighting

hud taken place and breaking up some Clubs and spears.

It Was all ready for Eaglehawk's return. Crew mer him

atc in a sad voice said char ihis was how he found

the camp on Iris arrival: ‘Some stranger group must have

come along and killed your son He showed Eaglehowk

the tracks and painted out thar all the meat had gone.

Eaglehawk tought ta himself, ‘Ah! what a liar He is.

éfe did this. Ul bide my time How can Peet him’? 7

Must make a plan!’ That night it began ¢o rain.

Esglehawk made a brush and bark hue for ‘poor old*

Crow ta sleep in. Then he prepared ane for bimself,

Nearby, In the night, when the rain had. stopped, he

made a fire brand and threw te into Crow's hun, The

flames burnt Ue ful and Crow to ashes, In the

morning, Eaglehawk looked and saw that he had.made

a thorough job of getting rid of Crow,

Some little time afterward, Haglelrawk went out

hunting and caught a rat. He brought it back to his

camp, neat the ashes of Crow. anil cooked the meat,

thinking in sorrow of his dead yon, He took the meat

OUL of the OVEN, ate and threw qway the bone He

looked over to where it had fallen: it rad disappeared,

Then he threw another bone, and it lon disappeared.

Next lime, he rirew a bone with some meat attached:

again it disappeared. He went on throwing these. Crow's

spirit was eating all these pieces of meal and bones:

his spirit bad not died, “you cant burs or destroy the

spirit!’ His spirit had remained at the plive where his

body died, Crow's spirit was absorbing all that mest

and (hose bones atid gradually, vnseen by Baglehawk,

he was regaining his rmarerial form.

Afler Baglehawk had Tinishey eating and Crow fad

absorbed all the left-overs, a whirlwind came runaiag

in the direction of the camp, Crow stepped into fi, and

as it came to (he place where he was Burnt, gathered

up all the ashes whieh Crow absorbed. Ie his true form,

he jumped out of the whirlwind, calling ‘We! I'll have

you now! Bur Eaglehawk had run away.

Some litle iime later Crow came ta Baglehawk,

having (racked him fo another canip. (0 @ plausible

manner, he told him of « large rat ina gras¥ most. The

usual way af obtaining these creatures was te place a

foot on the neat While a spear was thrust within iL Crow

said, ‘My foot is too smal yours Is large enough!"

Fagtehawk went with Crow lo where the nest was. Crow

had slready prepared a pit trap, placing upright spear-

pointed shatts within it, tidden by grass, Eaglehawk

put his foot on (he “nest, Bul it collapsed, causing him

to fall in to be pierced im the legs and body hy the spour-

points. This happened at Wilvama Hill, Hagtchawk died

there, his bload Mowed, spreading in streaks across this

area to form the silver deposits at Broker Hill, That

country ts Crow country and ihe people (here follow

his Law.. They have imer-marrying moieties; and men

end women, once rey ee dead, do nor rewien to reir

wives and Husbands, as Gaglehawk would have wished,

Crow Was eventually killed about twelve miles nor

west of Broken Hill at an outcrop called Black Rack,

Pernumuts, where he Was huent io his hur.

Unfortunately, Jim Mooney did not remember

the place names associated with these mythic events

— except for Black Rock and Broken Hill, He

added that Eaglehawk's variegaled fealhers

explained (he reason why there were differently’

coloured stones and rocks at Broken Hill and tn the

vicinity,

Aliough im this myth the varida, or for that

matter sorcery, is not mentioned, both Barney and

Mooney saw i as being integral to understanding

the overall mythological background of the ares.

Crow wae associated with sorcery, although not int

this case, Rather, interpretation was at @ different

level. Inthis early Dreaming period, people could

have made the choice between death and returning

i the same forni as before; in short, between dying

or not dying. If Eaglehawk had not been killed,

then there would haye been no sorcery, and ne

death, Since both were killed, a choice could no

fonger be made; the way was open to sorcery!

This 1s wot {he place to embark on an analysis

of the content of cach mythi, except to say that each

mirrors interpersonal conflict that cannot

necessarily be resolved — except through physical

ageression or through the devious practice af

sorcery, As will be known, the classic conflice

between these two mythical personages is widespread

and qanlfested in many Baglehawk and Crow

stores, In passing, it 3s worth mentioning that

Tindale (939: 243-261) presented an Eaplehawk

and Crow myth from the ‘Maraura’ people of the

lower River Darling. There are few resemblanors

between his and the one [ give, except that in

Tindale’s the death of Crow's sister's son is

Mmenhoned (pp 253-254) What is of particular

interest is that there is an echo of the original

dispute between Eagichawk and Crow cancerning

mateuineal or patrilineal deyeent and ity

implications ls marriage (p. 258).

CoNcLUusION

In conclusion, | should say that this paper ts

intended to present an Aboriginal interpretation as

an alternative to What bas Come ta be known as the

‘Panaramillee crocodile’ rock engraving. It does nut

dispute the assertion that the design on the relevant

piece of rock vould originally have been something

PANARAMITTEE MAGIC 27

different. There is no doubt that it ‘looks like’ a

crocodile’s head. But equally persuasive is the

assertion that it is something entirely different. The

evidence that was given to me by Barney Waria, in

some considerable detail, leaves little doubt in my

mind that the engraving did represent, or was

identified by Aborigines as representing, what was

called by them a magical yarida, a powerful object

that could be death-dealing as well as possessing

the potentiality of curing a sick person. However,

it is the ‘dark’ side of the yarida that has been

emphasized.

As far as I know, there is no reference in the

literature of Aboriginal magic and sorcery to a

similar object being used. Nevertheless, the context

in which it was discussed and the rationale of its

method of use are entirely consistent with what we

know of Aboriginal magic. The yarida is in fact

unique, and the recognition of its being a ‘magic

stick’ is important. It has a substantiating

mythological basis, a typical and established

technique of operation, and it is set within a matrix

of magical knowledge, especially in regard to the

use of dead person’s fat. All that gives it a ring of

authenticity.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I take the opportunity to dedicate this paper to the

memory of my old friend, Barney Waria. Perhaps, if

Eaglehawk had not been killed by Crow, we would have

had a different story to tell!

I wish to acknowledge also the help of the South

Australian Museum in supplying me with a photograph

of the Panaramittee engraving and sketches of its design,

during my early fieldwork in South Australia.

Dr John Stanton, Curator, Anthropology Museum of

the University of Western Australia, kindly prepared Figs

1, 4, 5 and 6 as well as the original sketches (Figs 2 and

3) of the Panaramittee ‘crocodile’.

I should like to acknowledge the helpful comments

made by Dr Luise Hercus on’ reading my contribution.

They concern linguistic matters and I have been able to

accommodate to some of them. However, it is necessary

for the reader to note that the orthography I used in the

1940s was based on G. Noél-Armfield’s ‘General Phonetics’

(Heffer & Sons, Cambridge, 1931: 21-24). Moreover, I

have not appreciably changed the spelling of words I wrote

down as Barney spoke them. To do so now, in the 1980s,

would be in my view unethical, In such circumstances, I

have retained both voiced and unvoiced consonants (p,

t, k and b, d, g) as I heard them. In a couple of instances

I have used ‘th’ as in thin (see Berndt & Vogelsang 1941).

It is possible, as Dr Hercus pointed out to me, that Barney

mixed Ngadjuri with Adnyamatana. Indirectly he implied

this, since by the time he was a young man the number

of Ngadjuri speakers was drastically depleted and they

were inevitably interacting with Adnyamatana people. |

did not, in the 1940s, distinguish between the three 1’

sounds. Further, it would appear that I have occasionally

used the symbols ‘a’ and ‘w’ interchangeably. I can only

repeat that I recorded what I heard. In regard to my use

of hyphens: I have used that device mostly to separate parts

of a compound word or phrase, as in yadna-walpu and

yadna-bandji, etc. | have no explanation to offer as to

why the hyphenated term Epa-tura was used for a

particular kind of spirit. As Dr Hercus notes, fura is a

Banggala-Guyani term equivalent to yura or epa in

Ngadjuri and means ‘human being’. The implication could

be that this spirit has no human qualities, that it is not

human. As far as the use of baya (or, as I spelt it earlier,

baija) is concerned, it was not translated as ‘bird’ but

referred to any sharpened bone, whether it was a bird or

kangaroo bone,

I am indebted to Dr Hercus for having pointed out that

the term yarida is/was widely used in the Lake Eyre Basin.

For instance, she noted that the Arabana-Wangkangurru

used it to refer to ‘evil magic’ or ‘poison’, and not

specifically to a sorcery object. The influenza epidemic

of 1919 was referred to as being yarida. However, I did

not record that word as being used in a general sense. But

Barney did mention that yarida was used for a crystal

throwing or pointing object that he called maimu: he drew

this in chalk for me on brown paper. I would like to have

followed up that point in other published material for the

Lake Eyre Basin: for instance, to have gone through my

bundles of Dieri texts. But all of that would have expanded

this paper far beyond the space permitted. My cases of

sorcery are restricted to what Barney told me. Nor was

this the place, for example, to follow up ‘birth-order names’

(of which Barney’s own is an example) and Ngadjuri social ,

organization.

Finally, I have purposely refrained from including any

of my interlinear texts, because I was not sufficiently

proficient in Ngadjuri to have any control over the

language — and, especially, after more than 40 years! In

the renderings of some of Barney’s statements, and his

and Mooney’s myths, I have used ordinary English. Barney

spoke reasonably good English and not what is now called

Aboriginal-English. Although he was non-literate, that

by no means impaired his English expression; Mooney was

literate, In my note books concerning their information,

I recorded the gist of what they said, with many actual

quotations. The statement by Barney on the first page of

this article originally read, ‘It’s wonderful. Here we can

look at all these things stacked up all around! People come

and look at them — but they don’t know what they are.

We do! It’s wonderful to think of their power, of all the

songs and corroborees they had. Now all that’s gone! All

that’s left is only in the thoughts of some of us’. And that

just about sums it up for the majority of us.

REFERENCES

BERNDT, R. M. 1941. The initiation of native doctors,

Dieri tribe, South Australia. Rec. S. Aust. Mus. 6:

369-380.

BERNDT, R. M. 1947. Wuradjeri magic and ‘clever men’.

Oceania 18: 60-86.

28 R. M. BERNDT

BERNDT, R. M. 1965. Law and order in Aboriginal

Australia. Jn R. M. & C. H. Berndt (Eds). ‘Aboriginal

Man in Australia’. Angus & Robertson, Sydney.

BERNDT, R. M. & VOGELSANG, T. 1941, Comparative

vocabularies of the Ngadjuri and Dieri tribes, South

Australia. Trans. R. Soc. S. Aust. 65: 3-10.

IDRIESS, I. 1948. ‘Lasseter’s Last Ride’, Angus &

Robertson, Sydney.

MOUNTFORD, C. P. 1929. A unique example of Abori-

ginal rock engraving at Panaramittee north. Trans. R.

Soc. S. Aust. 53: 243-248.

MOUNTFORD, C. P. & EDWARDS, R. 1962. Aboriginal

rock engravings of extinct creatures in South Australia.

Man 62: 97-99.

TINDALE, N. B. 1937. Two legends of the Ngadjuri tribe

from the middle north of South Australia. Trans. R.

Soc. S. Aust. 61: 149-153.

TINDALE, N. B. 1939. Eagle and Crow myths of the

Maraura tribe, lower Darling River, New South Wales.

Rec, S. Aust. Mus, 6; 243-261.

TINDALE, N, B. 1940, Results of the Harvard-Adelaide

Universities anthropological expedition, 1938-1939.

Distribution of Australian Aboriginal tribes: a field

survey. Trans. R. Soc. S. Aust. 64: 140-231.

THE FLINDERS RANGES : A PLEISTOCENE OUTPOST IN THE ARID

ZONE?

BYR. J. LAMPERT & P. J. HUGHES

Summary

This paper presents preliminary results of recent archaeological survey research in the Cooper

Basin, Strzeckli Desert and the northern Flinders Ranges of South Australia. The results suggest a

pattern of late Pleistocene occupation of the Ranges followed by movement onto the surrounding

plains as climatic change allowed, leading to late Holocene occupation of the entire Lake Eyre

Basin. It is hypothesised that movement such as this may also have occurred prior to 22 000 BP

with increasing aridity forcing moves back into the better-watered Ranges.

THE FLINDERS RANGES: A PLEISTOCENE OUTPOST IN THE ARID ZONE?

R. J. LAMPERT & P. J. HUGHES

LAMPERT, R. J. & HUGHES, P. J. 1987. The Flinders Ranges: a Pleistocene outpost in the

arid zone? Rec, S. Aust. Mus, 20: 29-34.

This paper presents preliminary results of recent archaeological survey research in the Cooper

Basin, Strzelecki Desert and the northern Flinders Ranges of South Australia, The results suggest

a pattern of late Pleistocene occupation of the Ranges followed by movement onto the surrounding

plains as climatic change allowed, leading to late Holocene occupation of the entire Lake Eyre

Basin. It is hypothesised that movement such as this may also have occurred prior to 22 000

BP with increasing aridity forcing moves back into the better-watered Ranges.

R. J. Lampert, Australian Museum, 6-8 College Street, Sydney, New South Wales 2000 & P. J.

Hughes, University of Papua New Guinea, P.O. Box 320, Port Moresby, Papua New Guinea.

Manuscript received 11 April 1986.

The Flinders Ranges are a series of mainly

quartzite ridges running north-south, extending

northward from the Mount Lofty Range and

eventually petering out in the dunefields of the

Strzelecki Desert. The northern sector of the Ranges

contains some of Australia’s more spectacular land-

scapes, with jagged peaks, razor-back ridges and

deep gorges. Here, the sharp relief of the Ranges

contrasts markedly with the surrounding sandy and

gravelly plains. Across these plains to the east lies

Lake Frome, and to the west Lake Torrens. Both

lakes are large saline playas, containing water only

rarely. Northward lies the vast expanse of the Lake

Eyre Basin, where drainage flows from more than

a million square kilometres of arid country to

evaporate from the saline flats of Lake Eyre.

The northern Flinders Ranges have an annual

rainfall of slightly less than 300 mm, which

decreases from south to north, and is 50% greater

than the nearby plains which receive only 200 mm.

This diminishes to a mere 125 mm in the heart of

the Strzelecki Desert and at Lake Frome. Within

this parched region the northern Ranges are thus

a reasonably well-watered strip of land.

As well as having a higher rainfall, the Ranges

have deep shady chasms with a rocky substrate that

retains surface water in pools after the streams

themselves have ceased flowing. The plains by con-

trast have only highly ephemeral streams and salt

pans, plus a few widely-spaced artesian springs with

water that is not always drinkable. The streams

flowing from the Ranges after rain often begin at

a high discharge, but on reaching the plain, peter

out rapidly, only rarely reaching the lakes, Frome

and Torrens. Under this regime, the streams drop

their bedload sediments within a short distance,

forming alluvial fans on the piedmont.

Perceived research potential

In 1979 we made a wide-ranging field reconnais-

sance of the Cooper Basin, Strzelecki Desert and

the northern Flinders Ranges (Hughes & Lampert

1980, Lampert & Hughes 1980). At that time there

was much speculation, but little information about

the antiquity of Aboriginal occupation of deserts

in and around the central core of the continent (cf.

Bowdler 1977). We saw potential rewards in seeking

stratified archaeological materials in sediments for

which suitable antiquity was either known or could

be expected: linear dunes with Pleistocene cores but

mantled with recent sand in the Strzelecki Desert;

alluvial fans in the northern Ranges; lunettes

around lake margins throughout the region. Our

interest was directed to the region also by reports

of Kartan assemblages in the Ranges (Cooper 1943).

Following Lampert’s earlier research on Kartan sites

on Kangaroo Island and mainland areas nearby

(Lampert 1981), a reconnaissance of the Ranges

promised to establish the northern limits of the

Kartan industry, which had been identified as a

regional variant of Australia’s early stone tool

tradition. There was a possibility also of locating

the industry in a stratified context, particularly in

the northern Ranges where numerous exposures had

been cut through the Pleistocene fan deposits by

streams (Lampert & Hughes 1980).

RESEARCH RESULTS

1. Cooper Basin — Strzelecki Desert

At least one hundred archaeological sites were

found around lakes and claypans, and along ephe-

meral water courses. All are late Holocene judging

30 K. J. LAMPERT & PB HUGHES

from the obiquitous presence of such typical small

tools as tulas and microliths, and of seed prinders,

all associated with surface sedinients. Core tools

and largish flake (ools are rare, and no artefact was

located unequivocally in the compact lower dune

sediments, for which dates of ground 15.000 BP

have been deduced (Hughes & Lanipert 1980).

However, Wasson (1983 and pers. comm. 1986)

oblained a date of c. 13 000 BP for charred wood

from a small Aboriginal lireplace, containing

mussel shell and burnt clay but no stone artefact,

found near the cevitre of the Strzelecki Desert (Site

JSN, Fig. Up.

Only at Lake Murteree (Fig. 1) did stone tools

seem to be erading from old dune sands, Qur

expectation of this being u Pleistocene site was

strengthened by its location: beside a relrable water

hole and an extensively quarried outcrop of silcrete.

This seemed an ideal spot for long term activity,

However, excavation during a subsequent field

season showed that the artetacts lay only ina slope-

washed skin of sediment on the eroded sub-dune

surface and not in the dune core risell. The absence

of early, stratified material at this promising

Joeation supparts the hypothesis of late occupation

of the area, the fireplace found by Wasson denoting

a fleeting visit towards the efid of the Plelstovene.

2. Mound Springs

These natural oullels for water from the Great

Artesian Basin lie iu an are several fiundred kilo-

mietres in length stretching from Lake Frome to

Dalhousie just north of Oodnadatta, During recon-

haissances {0 ifivestigale iheir archaeological

porential (Hughes & Lampert 1985, Lampert 1985),

each major spring complex was found to have at

least one large camp site assoviated with it. Like

the site described above, they are late Holocene m

age On the evidence of both stratigraphy and the

predominance of typical small tools in assemblages,

Artelaces had been deflated from recent sediments

aod let down on earlier, more compact horizons

such as carbonate palaeosols or the late Pleistocene

cores of dunes. However, at three sites, Wes! Finniss,

Welcome and Dalhousie, a few urtefacts were seem

emerging from a carbonate palacosol horizon just

below the surface, suggesting the possibility of

occupation earlier than the late Holocene

3. Lake Frome

The lake is a saline playa some 100 kin long and

45 km wide. With an annual rainfall ranging

between 100 and 125 nim and an evaporation rate

exceeding 2200 mm, it is one of Australia’s driest

places, Surface dramage from the Flinders Ranges

tothe west and ihe Olary Ranges to the seuth brings

water as far as the Jake only rarely. Qecasionally,

jhe overflow channe] from Lake Callabonna to the

north brings walter derived ultimately from Strze-

lecki Creek, but only when chere ts major Pooding,

jo south-western Queensland,

A few surface sites are located along the western

shore of the lake, all characterised by largish flake

and core fools and either an extreme paucity or a

total absence of typical small tools, Compared with

sites in tHe Ranges, those at Lake Frome are small

and sparse, The richest site, Baleoracana Creek,

dales toa early-mid-Holocene times (Lampert &

Hughes im prep.), and it seems probable that the

other sites along this shore, with typalogically

similar tools, had their main phase of occupation

dunng those years.

Fram the bed of the lake a pollen core obtained

by Singh (1981) indicates wetter conditions |n

early-mid-Holocene times, mainly between 7000

ajid 4000 BP, a period thal coincides not only wiih

thal of human occupation there, but also with a

moist phase evidenced by several lakes in south-

eastern South Australia (Dodgson 1974, 1975;

Lampert 1981).

A full excavation report on both Baleoracana

Creek and Hawker Lagoon (Lainpert & Hughes in

prep.) is in preparation. Our comments here are a

provisional report which can be evaluated further

when the final reporl is available.

4+. Hawker Lagoon

This is a small, ephemeral lake less than one

kilometre tn) diameter, located in a narrow synelinal

valley in the northern Filnders Ranges. Fed by local

run off trom asmall catchment, the lake has been

actually full only three times in the last 40 years,

but itis pardly Cull more frequently, According to

loci! residents, wher i does fill, water persists there

for several months,

Over about 50 ha of the deeply eroded lake-shore

lunevte and asejaining dunefield, there is an

enormaus, rich surface site, Scattered profusely are

large core tools, flake serapers, microliths, pirres,

tulas and seed grinders. At first glance these might

seem to be components of one industry lel down

on lo the eroded surface From a single stratum, but

this view is dispelled by closer inspection.

Core fools and some Vlake scrapers are scartence

widely across the entire 50 ha of the site, but mast

of the small tools and seed grinders aré concentrated

in much smaller areas near two overflow channels

from the lake, More significantly, stone toals can

be seen eroding from three superimposed strata in

dunes adjacent to the eroded areas. Excavation over

several seasons produced core tool|s and scrapers in

the eurliest level, dated ja ¢, 15 000 BP, a few small

tools in the middle level dated to c. 5000 BP, anu

a very rich small tool industry if the lop level which

was laid down in the last few centuries.

FLINDERS RANGES: A PLEISTOCENE OUTPOST? 31

FIGURE 1. Map showing place-names mentioned in the text.

JSN

Strzelecki e mL.Murteree

Desert

at Callabonna

L. Frome

mEudli Wagloona

Balcoracana Ck

rag hag TO i

Olary Range

32 R. J. LAMPERT & P. J, HUGHES

The tools recovered from the lowest level appear

identical to those in a larger sample collected from

a part of the site’s surface where only core tools and

scrapers are present. A metrical-statistical com-

parison (cf. Lampert 1981) of this larger sample

with surface collections from the Kangaroo Island

region shows the industry to be typically Kartan.

At Hawker Lagoon then, Kartan tools were used

across the entire area of a large site some 15 000

years ago, whereas small tools and seed grinders

were used in more localised areas during the past

few thousand years.

Excavations in the lunette at the lake margin

revealed, below typical aeolian sediments, a layer

of clean white sand that wedges out towards the

lake. This we interpret as a beach, indicating a long

term stand of high water in the past. Stratigraphi-

cally these sands lie between the 15 000 year old

Kartan level and the earliest small tool level, some

5000 years old.

Over the rest of the site, these levels meet each

other disconformably where beach sands are absent,

the weathered surface of the lowest level indicating

a phase of erosion between 15 000 BP and small

tool times. Because this weathered surface continues

below the beach sands, high lake levels must have

occurred around the end of the phase of erosion

and not long before the first small tools were used

at the site.

Almost certainly, the high water levels reflect the

same early-mid-Holocene moist phase evidenced,

not only at Lake Frome some 160 km to the north-

east, but also at lakes in south-eastern South Aus-

tralia, 500 km and more away.

Also of significance is the absence of any concen-

tration of artefacts as a lag deposit on the eroded

surface of the lowest level, and the extreme paucity

of artefacts in the middle level that lies immediately

above, Thus, human activity was at its sparsest at

Hawker Lagoon, not only during the phase of

erosion (when we might expect it), but also (and

paradoxically) during the phase of high lake levels.

THE REGIONAL PICTURE

However, this seeming paradox can be resolved

simply by looking at the regional picture. The shore

of Lake Frome was occupied most intensively at this

very time, in the early-mid-Holocene, suggesting

that moister conditions generally allowed people to

extend their activities more broadly across the

landscape, reaching places like Lake Frome, which

today are inhospitable, and having less need to

concentrate on places like Hawker Lagoon where

water is more reliable.

Recent Aboriginal land use in the region offers

support for this explanation of events that occurred

thousands of years ago. John McKenzie, an elder

of the local Adnyamathanha people, took Lampert

to the eastern shore of Lake Frome, which is even

more arid than the western shore already referred

to. He indicated a small spring, known to his people

as Eudli Wagloona, the only source of water for

scores of kilometres. Stories handed down to John

by his father say that the ‘old people’ in his group

visited this spring, but only infrequently, when

‘seasons were particularly good’, spending most of

their time in the better-watered Ranges. A sparse

scatter of stone flakes around the spring, in an

otherwise archaeologically barren landscape,

accords with John McKenzie’s story of occasional

visits. Although the time scale is different, the

pattern of movement and the underlying motives,

are exactly those deduced from archaeological

evidence for the early-mid-Holocene.

CONCLUSIONS

Because the Flinders Ranges are better-watered

than their surroundings, human occupation there

was more intensive and of longer duration, dating

back some 15 000 years, Lake Frome, one of the

most arid places in the study region, was visited only

when wetter conditions prevailed, whether over

the long term as in the early-mid-Holocene or

occasionally during good seasons as in the recent

past. While this movement in recent times was one

of environmental opportunism — taking advantage

of unusually good conditions to visit a remote site

— the fact that this site has a name indicates that

such visits were part of a cycle and not isolated

incidents.

On present evidence, the Lake Eyre Basin to the

north seems to have been first occupied in the late

Holocene. We gain a picture of people, based in the

Ranges during the late Pleistocene, making occa-

sional forays to the surrounding plains as stressful

arid conditions of the last glacial maximum amelio-

rated. On one of these visits, made some 13 000

years ago, they reached the heart of the Strzelecki

Desert (Wasson 1983). During the early-mid-Holo-

cene they made visits of longer duration to the shore

of Lake Frome. Possibly they also reached some of

the mound springs at this time, but more field

research is needed to test this hypothesis.

The evidence viewed so far suggests that people

were able to reside in the central arid core of

Australia only well after the harsh, desiccating

conditions of the last glacial maximum had amelio-

rated (cf. Bowdler 1977). But was this the initial

human occupation of the region? An alternative

view is that occupation took place before this,

before say 22 000 BP, but the onset of aridity caused

depopulation, people perhaps falling back on the

FLINDERS RANGES: A PLEISTOCENE OUTPOST? 33

better-watered Ranges. Widespread aeolian move-

ments of sediments at the time of the glacial

maximum then obliterated the evidence of their

former visits. This seems a reasonably valid alter-

native given occupation at Lake Mungo under fairly

moist conditions more than 30 000 years ago.

Identifying this possible early occupation in the

Lake Eyre Basin is the aim of our current research

project. We are encouraged in this by the recogni-

tion by Wasson (1983) of source bordering dunes

and other sedimentary features that denote drainage

patterns ancestral to the present system. These pre-

date the linear dunes which form the major part

of today’s land surface. Whereas our earlier survey

largely followed modern drainage systems, we are

concentrating now on the early sediments that have

been identified.

REFERENCES

BOWDLER, S. 1977. The coastal colonisation of Aus-

tralia. Jn J. Allen, J. Golson & R. Jones (Eds). ‘Sunda

and Sahul: Prehistoric Studies in Southeast Asia,

Melanesia and Australia’. Pp. 205-246. Academic Press,

London.

COOPER, H. M. 1943. Large stone implements from

South Australia. Rec. S. Aust. Mus. 7: 343-369.

DODSON, J. R. 1974. Vegetation history and water fluc-

tuations at Lake Leake, south-eastern South Australia.

I. 10 000 BP to present. Aust. J. Bot, 22: 719-741.

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tuations at Lake Leake, south-eastern South Australia.

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HUGHES, P. J. & LAMPERT, R. J. 1980. Pleistocene

occupation of the arid zone in southeast Australia:

research prospects for the Cooper Creek-Strzelecki

Desert region. Aust. Archaeology 10: 52-67.

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Australia: Assessment of Aboriginal Archaeological

Significance’. Unpublished report to Kinhill Stearns,

Adelaide.

LAMPERT, R. J. 1981. ‘The Great Kartan Mystery: Terra

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archaeology in the Flinders Ranges: research prospects.

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Human Occupation of the Flinders Ranges’.

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seasonal palaeoclimates of Lake Frome, South Aus-

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of the desert dunes. Zeit. Geomorphologie 45: 85-115.

LEAVING THE SPINIFEX : THE IMPACT OF RATIONS, MISSIONS, AND

THE ATOMIC TESTS ON THE SOUTHERN PITJANTJATJARA

BY M, BRADY

Summary

This paper desribes the circumstances whereby Aboriginal people of the Great Victoria Desert came

into contact with the United Aborigines’ Mission at Ooldea Soak on the Transcontinental Railway

line in the early part of this century.The influence of rations is found to be of acute significance to

these incoming movements. Rations were utilised by the missionaries, the railway authorities, and

later by the Woomera and Maralinga authorities, as a means whereby they might enforce control on

the movements of Aborigines in the region. The access by these people to their country was finally

blocked in the 1950s when the area north of the railway line was alienated to become the proving

ground for atomic weapons by the British Government at sites near Emu and Maralinga.

Nevertheless, as the paper shows, the ceremonial life and social organisation of the ex-Ooldea

people, who became the Yalata people, has been retained. In this process, earlier inter-group

designations have become subsumed under the all-encompassing identity of the Pitjanjatjara.

LEAVING THE SPINIFEX: THE IMPACT OF RATIONS, MISSIONS,

AND THE ATOMIC TESTS ON THE SOUTHERN PITJANTJATJARA

M. BRADY

BRADY, M. 1986. Leaving the spinifex: the impact of rations, missions, and the atomic tests

on the southern Pitjantjatjara. Rec, S. Aust, Mus. 20: 35-45.

The paper describes the circumstances whereby Aboriginal people of the Great Victoria Desert

came into contact with the United Aborigines’ Mission at Ooldea Soak on the Transcontinental

Railway line in the early part of this century. The influence of rations is found to be of acute

significance to these incoming movements, Rations were utilised by the missionaries, the railway

authorities, and later by the Woomera and Maralinga authorities, as a means whereby they might

enforce control on the movements of Aborigines in the region. The access by these people to

their country was finally blocked in the 1950s when the area north of the railway line was alienated

to become the proving ground for atomic weapons by the British Government at sites near Emu

and Maralinga. Nevertheless, as the paper shows, the ceremonial life and social organisation

of the ex-Ooldea people, who became the Yalata people, has been retained. In this process, earlier

inter-group designations have become subsumed under the all-encompassing identity of the

Pitjantjatjara.

M. Brady, Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies, P.O. Box 553, Canberra, Australian Capital

Territory 2601. Manuscript received 18 August 1986.

The antecedents of the people who now live at

Yalata were people with affiliations to the desert

and spinifex country in the far north and north-

west of South Australia, stretching over into Western

Australia, Of central importance to their history is

Ooldea Soak, known by Yalata people today as

Yuuldul, a natural and permanent source of potable

water, lying a few feet below the surface on a clay

bed. R. and C. Berndt noted in 1942 that Aborigines

called the place 'Juldi'gabi (Ooldea water) (1942a:

323). The place-name may be Wirangu, as the soak

lay on their land. The United Aborigines’ Mission

at Ooldea was, for many desert dwellers, their first

stable source of European rations, and the Mission

acted as a powerful attraction to Aborigines,

drawing them out of the spinifex, and bringing

about a cumulative state of entrapment and

dependency. In this paper, I examine the

circumstances which caused these groups of Western

Desert people to leave their country and the means

whereby they were prevented from returning to it.

MIGRATIONS AND MOVEMENTS

Ooldea Soak lies 6 km north of the Ooldea siding

on the Transcontinental Railway line, on the north-

eastern edge of the Nullarbor Plain, and on the

southern edge of the spinifex, mulga and sandhill

ranges which stretch north and west (see Fig. 1, p. 2).

Bolam, a railwayman posted to Ooldea from

1918 to 1925, reported that heavy rains north or

north-east from Ooldea would benefit the Soak

within a week; he hypothesised that there was an

underground flow originating in the Musgrave or

Everard Ranges (Bolam 1923: 18). He also stated

that there were several different wells of water: fresh,

brackish and bitter, and that the bitter spring had

healing properties known to the Aborigines (1923:

15). The Soak, because of its permanency, was

evidently known to Aboriginal people of many

different language groups, not only the desert or

‘spinifex’ people from the north, but the coastal

people as far west as Eucla, and east to Fowler’s

Bay and beyond, In the early part of the century

people from the Mann, Musgrave, Everard and

MacDonnell ranges in Central Australia, Tarcoola

(on the Transcontinental Railway to the east),

Kalgoorlie in Western Australia, and coastal groups

were known to frequent the Soak (Berndt 1959: 84).

The Aboriginal owners of the Soak were probably

Wirangu people (R. & C. Berndt 1942a: 323),

although it lay within the range of Kokatha people

whose territory extended north and east. Tindale

placed the Soak as a four-way meeting point for

the Kokatha and Ngalea language groups to the

north-east and north-west, and the Wirangu and

Mirning people to the south-east and south-west

(Tindale 1974). Because Ooldea hosted numbers of

visiting people from different regions, it was the

location of considerable trading exchanges.

Wombat-fur twine, ochre, bush tobacco, pearl-shell

and pipeclay were traded items mentioned by

R. & C. Berndt (1942c: 168). Bolam mentions the

trading of ‘initiation stones’ which were ‘small flints

with a knife edge . . . carefully preserved in

36 M. BRADY

wrappings (generally of skin)’ (1923: 85). Johnston

reported that the quartzite flakes common at

Ooldea (still to be seen today in profusion there)

were said to come from the apu (stoney) country

(the Everard Ranges), and some originated from

Tertiary deposits near Eucla (Johnston 1941: 40).

Considerable population movement had probably

been in process before Europeans arrived in the

region (R. & C, Berndt 1942a: 326). In 1941

R. Berndt noted the expansion of the ‘culture

of the Western Desert peoples’ which had ‘spread

fanwise from the north-west, driving back or

incorporating the different elements of the more

southern region’ (Berndt 1941: 4). The Pitjantjatjara

and other north-western groups moved eastwards,

and the Yankunytjatjara and Antakirinja moved

south, Daisy Bates documents that the people she

called the Koogurda were subjected to the pressure

of incoming migrations of northern groups. In 1930

Elkin noted a population of two hundred, mostly

Kokatha people of mixed European-Aboriginal

descent at Koonibba, and some forty Wirangu

living in the Iron Knob ration depot area (the top

of the Eyre Peninsula) (Elkin 1931: 62-63). It seems

likely that the Wirangu and Kokatha were the

groups to take the brunt of first sustained contact

with Europeans — workers constructing the

Transcontinental railway line between 1909 and

1917. Many mixed descent children were born as a

result of this contact.

Despite, or even as a result of, these patterns of

movement, several researchers have noted the

remarkable unity of language and social organisa-

tion of Aboriginal groups from as far west as

Kalgoorlie and across the area north of the

Nullarbor as far as the Northern Territory border

(Elkin 1931, Berndt 1959; 44),

R. & C. Berndt, who undertook fieldwork at

Ooldea Soak in 1941, noted the presence of

Antakirinja people (originally from the Everard

Ranges). Pitjandjara, Murunitja, Nangatadjara,

[from Western Australia], Mandjindja, and

Wirangu’ who all spoke Pitjantjatjara, but with

localised dialects (Berndt & Johnston 1942:

189-190).

EUROPEANS FIND THE SOAK

The first Europeans to be taken to Ooldea Soak

were two well-sinkers who were working at Fowler’s

Bay in the early 1870s; in 1875 Ernest Giles used

Ooldea as the starting-point for his inland crossing

of the Nullarbor (Bolam 1927: 11, Johnston 1941:

38). His guide was a Wirangu man called Jimmy

(Giles 1880: 6), Leaving Fowler’s Bay, the party

travelled west to Colona, which was then an ‘out

station’ of the Yalata homestead at Fowler’s Bay.

From Colona heading north, they passed Ifould

Lake, a site known to Yalata people and believed

to have been created by wanampi (Pitj.) a

LEAVING THE SPINIFEX 37

mythological snake. Giles’s Wirangu guide informed

them that it was:

the footmark (or track) of a monstrous animal or snake

that used to haunt the neighbourhood of the big plain,

and which had once been driven by the Cockata blacks

out of the mountains to the north (the Musgrave Ranges

of my last expedition) . . . Another thing was rather

strange, and that was how these coast natives should

know there were any mountains to the north of them

... (Giles 1880: 6; see also R. Berndt 1941: 17).

The party also passed Pidinga and camped at the

rockholes there. Giles traversed the last thirty-three

miles to Ooldea, where they found a ‘shallow native

well in the sandy ground of a small hollow’ (Giles

1880: 7). The party slabbed up the sand at the Soak

to obtain access to water for men, horses and

camels. Giles’ impression of the Soak was initially

marred by the intense heat and he described it as

a ‘fearful place’ (Giles 1880: 10). He does not report

evidence of Aboriginal visitation in the region of

the Soak.

Some years later other Europeans recognised the

potential for the Soak’s water supply: in 1897 the

South Australian Government Geologist H. Y. L.

Brown noted that it was the only permanent and

reliable water source in the region, and in 1901 the

Soak was earmarked to supply water during the

construction of the railway. RT. Maurice, recon-

noitering the possible exploitation of resources in

the region in 1901 suggested that although the land

had little value from a pastoral point of view it

‘surely must contain some minerals or metals of

value’ (Murray 1901: 39). The Transcontinental

Railway construction teams commenced work from

each end, and the tracks from east and west came

together at a point between the sidings of Ooldea

and Watson. Construction took five years and the

line was completed in 1917. The Soak was bored

for water and up to 70 000 gallons (320 000 litres)

per week were drawn from it (Berkery 1944: 33);

a pumper was stationed there to supervise the water

supply, and a siding was built a few kilometres south

of it. Construction and maintenance workers lived

in camps along the line, and a growing number of

Aboriginal people, attracted by the activity, camped

in the vicinity so that when Mrs Daisy Bates arrived

at Ooldea in 1919, hundreds of Aborigines were in

contact with Europeans.

DAISY BATES: TELLING OF THEIR BEING AND

THEIR ENDING

Mrs Bates had travelled to Australia in 1899 in

order to investigate allegations of cruelty to

Aborigines for a London newspaper (White

1985a: 5). After considerable periods of time spent

among Western Australian Aborigines, she wrote

to the Railways Commissioner: ‘I am desirous of

resuming work among the sick natives in South

Australia and. . . I think the Ooldea area offers

a good field for my labours’ (Bates 1919). She

requested unused huts for her use and for access

to a water supply, and justified her presence to the

South Australian government and the railway

authorities in terms of her caring role for natives.

In addition, she argued that the presence of a

European woman acted as a deterrent to the ‘moral

degradation’ that ensued from contact between

Aboriginal women and railway workers. Using an

adroit piece of reasoning, she suggested that a

mission at the siding would promote prostitution:

I would not advise any concessions to any aboriginal

‘mission’ on the line. It would merely be a ‘jumping off?

place for prostitution . . . In the first place it is a risk

to let the natives enter a white person’s house. . . the

native children have infectious sores that the white

children at the Siding have caught more than once

... (Bates 1924),

It is more likely that Mrs Bates was concerned

that a mission would usurp her role at the Soak.

In fact she had the field to herself for another nine

years before the United Aborigines’ Mission (UAM)

became established at Ooldea in 1933. For the extent

of her stay, Mrs Bates received little official

assistance. She gave out small amounts of tea and

other foodstuffs from her own supplies, and ad-

ministered simple medical aid to those who came

to her. ‘My methods were my own, grandmotherly

cough mixtures, massaging with oil, nourishing

foods and much cheeriness’ she wrote in one of her

chapters on Ooldea in ‘The Passing of the

Aborigines’ (1938: 173). Her many courteous letters

requesting assistance from the Railways Com-

missioner, the Protector of Aborigines, and even the

Prime Minister, brought little result. For the

duration of her sixteen years there, she lived between

the Soak and the railway line in a tent. Her

correspondence reveals that she endured con-

siderable privations.

Bates documented the mythology of the region

(including that for Ooldea Soak), details of daily

life, social organisation, language, and often noted

when large groups of Aboriginal visitors arrived.

For example she described a group of twenty-six

men, women and children who arrived from the

Mann Ranges, sixteen hundred kilometres to the

north-west (1938: 172). She noted that journeys

from the northern ranges often took two years,

‘zigzagging in the desert for food and water’ (1938:

191), that people drank from water-bearing tree

roots, and that once encamped along the line they

utilised the trains e7 masse as transport to attend

ceremonies (1938: 191, 195), Trains provided the

38 M, HRADY

Aborigines living along the line with a fast collective

means of transport. The Commonwealth Railways

fought a losing battle in their attempts to deter

Aborigines trom travelling in open cattle iruicks, fee

of chatge on mos! occasions, or un the “Tea anc

Sugar trai whieh called avall the sidings aloo the

line with provisions for railway eniplovees, The rail-

way authorities disliked the impression given by a

motley group af Aborigines, and the Commissioner

of Railways deseribed the people as The poorest type

in Australia —.— at would be better if tourses did

not see therm’? (Adelaide 4raus, 4 April 1934), Even

Mrs Bates, Who was aware of rhe advantages to the

ceremonial life provided by railway transport, wrote

to the Railways Comnissioner:

| have had so much touble ever ie visits oF these

Kalgoorlie mobs that | would ask you to fake drastic

action lo prevent ihe conveyance to and lho of any and

all narives. The so-called Kalgoorlie mobs — dregs of

the once nusenus Berder ranges mots —are mye must

\indesirable of all natives... (Bates, Correspondence,

29 May 1923).

The ‘Kalgoorlic mobs’ were the Kio and ceremonial

associates of the spinifex people at Ooldea, and

(heir visils east on the trains (amd visits west by

Ooldea people) were and suillare, part of a network

of ceremonial exchanges linking Western Desert

people In central areas of Western Australia, across

the Nullarbor and north into Central Australia

(UTbokinson 1074: 94-98).

THe UNtirhu AGORIGINES' Missi:

Reaniar KRaTIONS

Ip 1933 the WAM sent Miss Annie Lock te

establish a mission at Ooldea Soak, and within twe

niowhs of fer derival the office of the Chict

Protector begin to issue her with rations and

nyedicines for distribution:

T have suegested to the UAM [han they should comsader

opening a small store at Miss Lock's camp where the

natives could purchase fond and arher necessary atleles

(Correspondence, Chet Prolectar to Rajlways

Commissioner, Ocioher 19399).

Koonibba missionaries who had dealings with both

Lock and Bates, report that — not surprisingly —

relations between The two were strained (Hans

Gaden pers, comm,), Two years atrer Miss Lock’s

arrival Mrs Bates left Qoldea.

Its clear [rotn correspondence berween the Rail

ways Commnussioner and the Protector thal the

withholding (und conversely, the provision) of

tauions Was uflised as a means whereby these

Wuthoritres might control che movement and

preselice of Aborlelnes slong the line. It had been

a deliberate policy by the Prorector's office nov to

provide rations for Aborigines at sidings, in an

attenipe to discourage them from gathering at way-

side stations, However, a syslem of bartering

developed beiween Aborigines and passengers on

The Irains, whereby anefacts were exchanged for

goods and cash, The Protector believed this to be

‘detrimental [o the aboriginals themselves Inasmuch

as il encourages (hem to shiftless habits’ (Corres:

pondence, 24 July 1930). With the construction of

the railway having itself acted as an attraction ter

Aboriginal people, and the siding built only a few

kilometres from a significant location, the

authorities found themselves in an untenable

situation, and experiencing an inereasingly bad

ntess. They tesorted to forcible removal, collabora-

ting with the police fo transport Aborigines away

from sidings, and ulged the Protector to consider

relocating the people some distance from the line,

The arrival of the WAM was perevived as a fast

attempl to keep Aborigines from frequenting the

line, The provision of rations by Miss Lock,

Iherelbre, was a considered technique fo persuade

the Aborigines to stay inthe Soak area and wor stray

to the line She reportedly encouraged ‘the able-

bodied to hunt for wild dogs, foxes and rabbits and

imlends tracing the skins and scalps soas to provide

them with moncy to maintain themselves* (Corres-

pandence between Chie! Protector and Comman-

wealth Railways, 31 Oetober 1933), In addition, she

cooked daniper for her charges, and evidently ‘ted’

people rather chan just distribuling ‘raw rations’.

At this time (November 1933) there were seventy

adults and thirty children at Qoldea, Some of the

woups coming mlo Ooldea had already tried

European food, as a resull of encounters with

doggers and other inmerant whites (el. White 1985b:

217). Those who arrived a few years later would have

reccived rations from Ernabella, the Presbyterian

mission in (he north-west ol Soulh Australia, which

was established in 1937. Dingo scalps were legal

tender, being traded in exchange for money and

voods, tea, Nowr and sugar at Ernabella slore

(Hilliard 1968: 81). Aboriginal reports of this period

(rom older Yalata people) are remarkable in (hat

they emphasise the considerable traffic in and our

of Ooldea (rather than the formation of a stable

population), and (he deliberate dissemination by

Aborigines, of information about the availabiliry

al foad at Ooldea. Although later missionaries of

the UAM sent ‘mission’ Aborigines short distances

out with tohaceo and clothing (ef, Turner 1950: 114),

this was only Once incomime groups. were williln

sight of Quldea, There is no evidence that those wha

decided to walk inte Ooldea from outlying locations

in the spinifex, did so other than voluntarily.

However, Iniraduced animals had penetrated as far

as the spinifex country and were devastajing native

fata, there were rabbits in the Musgrave Ranges

LEAVING THE SPINIFEX 39

by the turn of the century (Hilliard 1968: 79). There

was also drought, recorded for example by Dr

Charles Duguid in 1939 west of the Mann Ranges.

People remember Mrs Bates (‘Mrs Biddy’) and

Annie Lock (‘Miss Locks’), and the food. Yalata

people who remember these years reported:

We heard about meat, sheep and good tucker at Ooldea

and so we went [to] Cook and jump on the train to

Ooldea... went back out spinifex and brought in my

wife and her mob. (TQ)

We never travel in the hot times. We went back out with

that yarn about tucker and spread the word . . . we came

in again and went back out. . . (KQ)

My husband and my sister L.S. came in. She was a child,

nota woman. My sister told me ‘lot of flour at Ooldea’

... We all met up and came in [lists rockholes en route]

Mrs Bates was there . . . she gave me dress ’cos | came

long way from Iltur [Coffin Hill]. (RS)

Yalata people also recall carrying rations back out

to the spinifex so that others could ‘taste’ them. One

elderly man carried rations from Ooldea to ‘echo

place’ (probably Echo Hill, north of the Everard

Ranges); despite eating a portion of them en route,

he was able to distribute half a bag of flour, together

with tea and sugar.

Although people have described that they walked

in and out of Ooldea on several occasions at

intervals of months, or even years, after several such

trips, many people made Ooldea a semi-permanent

base:

We sat down there with Miss Lock and Miss Tyler and

Mr Simmonds. | didn’t go back spinifex but went to

Makuru [rockhole north of Cook]. (RS)

No-one said ‘wanzi’ [leave it ic. Ooldea] we are going

to stay here’ [i.e. spinifex]. (SY)

The mission had expanded over the years, and a

boys’ and girls’ ‘home’ (dormitory) constructed (cf.

Turner 1950). Aboriginal parents were encouraged

to place their children in the homes where they were

subjected to a vigorous regime of Christian indoc-

trination, physical drill, boys’ brigade and daily

prayers. Rations for the camp dwellers were dis-

tributed after morning service, and R. & C. Berndt

(who wrote critically of the practices of the UAM)

observed;

The natives have heard much about God and Christ,

but their conception of them is confused so that they

have in part become identified with the distribution of

rations . . . the church is an interesting and diverting

social occasion (Berndt 1942b: 56).

There is no doubt that European rations were

strongly desired and the Berndts remarked on the

‘great reliance’ placed by Aborigines on their

Government rations (1942b: 59) (see Fig. 1).

Undoubtedly the explanation for the extraordinary

movement towards a stable source of foodstuffs lies,

in part, in the hardships and difficulty of the food

quest, as opposed to the consistency and volume

of rations distributed. As Hamilton suggested, ‘put

in ecological terms, it was a question of maintaining

an energy input/output balance favourable to

human survival’ (1972: 41). Seed-grinding by women

was probably one of the most arduous tasks, and

Yalata women told me that grinding seeds with

{jungart (top stone) and making nyuma (seed cake)

‘finish altogether, finish at Ooldea, finish — flour!’

A dental researcher who visited Ooldea in 1926

(before full-scale ration distribution had com-

menced) noted ‘a fair amount’ of attrition to adults’

teeth from the ‘vigorous use of teeth and roughness

of food’. However, he also observed even then that

Aborigines at Ooldea ate ‘white bread and cake

when obtainable, and use white flour, while their

craving for free sugar is marked’. He described this

diet as ‘pappy’ (Campbell & Lewis 1926: 375).

Anderson (1983) has argued against an overly

simplistic ‘ecological imperative’ explanation for

Aboriginal people moving towards European food

sources, suggesting that food, goods and services

were obtained in the context of a social relationship

with particular, permanent whites. This facilitated

the development of a ‘proper’ relationship between

Aborigines and Europeans, from an Aboriginal

point of view (1983: 489). This special social

relationship with individual whites was certainly

developed with Mrs Bates and with Harrie Green

of the UAM. The presence of these particular

Europeans is used as time-markers by older Yalata

people now, so that people describe a period as ‘Mis’

Bates’ time’ or ‘Mr Green time’.

Hamilton discusses the reciprocal nature of the

relationship between Aborigines and Europeans

suggesting that the distribution of rations by

Europeans was an act bearing reciprocal con-

notations of which most Europeans were largely

unaware. The Aborigines who walked in to Ooldea,

and more specifically, those who stayed, had

discovered an apparently unfailing source of food

which the UAM missionaries were willing to dis-

tribute with virtually no strings attached — apart

from attendance at Christian service already

mentioned. A few Europeans, including Daisy

Bates, were not only aware of the reciprocal

exchanges expected by Aborigines, but endeavoured

to engage in such exchanges; they made use of them.

For example, because Bates’ circumstances were so

straightened, she often went without sufficient food

herself; ‘when times were lean, and the natives had

only a small damper, they could be sure that I had

an even smaller piece of toast’ (Bates 1938: 194).

40) M, BRADY

She accepted offers of bush food on such o¢easions:

‘Tmade a meal of an wuans that two ends , -.

caught and cooked for me’ (1938: 170) and was

pravided with other gilts af food, ie day Ciifidius

inisunderstood me though! | was twingry, and

hugh! me a billy-ean of broken bread he had

beeged from the (rain-passengers’ (1998: 194).

Another Buropean wraced with some understanding

of Aboriginal practices, Woomera Nulive Patrol

Olliecr Walt MacDougall, woote of reciprocal

ewhanges:

When coutuers ure first made (he aborigine likes ro give

presents in appreciation of gills le may receive, IL is

perhaps farliral at the white refuses (he gift of same

half-cooked kangarau ar mangeytooking rabbir (even

though te is gor obliged oe eat it) bul the revull is thal

very quickly (he aborigine believes (hal (he afite will

provide tree and continuing food trem his inexhaustible

supply for dorhing in-retur. . . (Mavlougall 1956),

R.& ©, Berndt commented that (he Qoldea Aborl-

gines thought ‘he rations are less than they should

be and that the government .. is bound to support

them’ (1942b: 59), Catherine Berndt wrote thar

although she ware almos! the same clothes every

day the women demanded thal she give hem whal

she wore: “you plenty blouse, me nothing’ (RK, & C,

Berndt 194da: 220). For at least some years, the

UAM sold the tations (half a bag of four was ter

shillings, a double handful of sugar four shillings).

On one oceasion, a local police sergeant passed on

the complaint from an Aboriginal man that al-

though the Mission received the rations free of

charge, they made the Aborigines pay for them, This

undoubtedly contribuled to Aboriginal resentment

against the whites, who were perceived lo have a

plenitude of supphes. R. & C. Berndt report

hearing 4 narrative which supports this view:

One such deseripive stary, toatd by a youn man,

narrates a hunting exploit aqd tells of cooking and

distributing ihe mear amenp relarves and triends,

certain parts being wiven (Oo the Nuiler'’s dogs. After

deseribing various inicidenis, (he barfative ends’ wilh a

haranguc against che white man, a disiribulor of

rations, who alhougl) Having auch (ood yefused 16 give

any to the veller af the srary (R. & C. Berndi 1942e: bal).

Jo other words, the distributor of rations for any

dither desired object) was compared with the

individual who, being the possessor ol nical, gives

it ro his relatives. Merely to be in possession of an

ofject uesired By another, then, entails che

requiremenr that it be given, unless the possessor

can improvise a stratevy whereby he might avoid

such a demand. It is clear that although the

European view may have been that Aborigines were

more demanding than they Should" have been, from

the Aboriginal perspective, Furopeans never came

up Wilh an aeveptably reason why they should not

acquiesce tO Aboriginal denjands,

By the mid-1940s, (hose who had ‘sat down’ in

the vicinity of the mission were ‘ho@ked’ — in a

sense, psychologically addicted to Puropean food,

caught up in a particular ¢hydim of lite, and

involved i) a new social relationship. Gne Vielara

man, who was bora vor in the spines bur al

Kingoonya (on the railway line) explained why he

stayed on at Goldea:

My furlwe LW) went back bush and cane back later

on, He took boys our spinifex, | erew up onthe tlow

and sugar and got hungry for (hat. Old people didn’)

know it, Because | grew up on that | staved around,

J never miei to runaway, baa io he iad [vezerihle

food, Le, while man’s foad) loo long. (HW)

Although many groups still lived in the spinites,

the population at Ooldew grew; in 1941 R, & C,

Bernull reporied two hundred people there, most of

whom walked back into the xpinitex aller good

rains. Eleven years later, at the closure of the

mission, the population was around three hundred,

AL ceremonies between four and five hundred

people earhered at Ooldea (RK. & C. Berndt 1942a:

312),

Although there is no doubt that these souchern

spiiifea people initially left Meir Country voluntarily

for al Jeast free ol overt persuasion by Buropeans)

there can also be no doubt that they had no ini

mation that a later return would not be possible,

and certainly it Was iiconecivable that they could

‘lose’ the country, Yalata people made it clear that

it was Kin who drew others io lo Ooldea: husbanis

went back to the spinifex to bring in wives;

duughters brought in their mothers. People were

determinedly keeping Lheir families together.

Additionally, once senior people with responsibility

for particular places bad gone to Ooldea, others fells

uneasy at those sites without them, Whether this

was so for 4 large number of sites | was unable to

discover, It nay have been the case only for sites

Which were believed to be mildly dangerous, as in

the following instance. The story concerns the

location Wantunya, a well Which lies north of Caok

and south-west ol! Wyola Lakes. The site is axsovr

dited with the mythological snake who is believed

to live submerged in the well, Other snakes

(throughout (he desert) are believed to he highly

dangerous and their “egura (camps) are avoided: this

one is known 10 be ‘quiet, The account which

hillows was provided by a Yalata waman, mecalling

the time when she travelled into Goldea

Piven [stake] Oo rieht (hrougtt underground, when

lrungry, he usk for meat, food, he ask -— like thunder

hw make tiaise — he like rabbit, Evervbody, avangu pur

fabbil (here for bini all around, leave them whole and

LEAVING THE SPINIFEX Al

he can have them. He come out at night after you go

away. Then he [snake] give them [people] water . . . My

mother and me, we camp here. After that, Ooldea, came

back, then, never came back. When A. [woman’s name]

and eldest daughter went to Ooldea, we got frightened

— boss muka all gone to Ooldea, [lists names]. . .

because they went, boss, we can’t come. Then wanampi

lonely, he get wild, wanampi get wild. He get sulky if

no meat [is given to him]. Stranger muka they won’t

give a feed [to him] and he won’t give them water. (AC)

The narrator thus explains her unwillingness to

stay at Wantunya for two reasons: the absence of

those she calls ‘bosses’ for the place, and the

influence of this absence on the potentially dan-

gerous snake. The story is also interesting in its

attention to the correct procedures of exchange. The

strangers (possibly white men) are unaware of the

requirement to feed rabbits to the snake, and in

return the snake will not make water available to

them.

THE UAM: SPIRITUAL ASSAULT AND

SPIRITUAL RESISTANCE

The UAM missionaries wavered between despair

at having more mouths to feed, and elation at the

prospect of having more souls to save, on the

occasions when large contingents arrived for

ceremonial purposes. The UAM believed that they

were making headway in the spiritual battle. Harrie

Green, in correspondence with me before he dicd

in 1979 wrote:

. Native customs gradually ceased as the people

became desirous of a civilised way of life ... there

seemed to be little clash of cultures... we taught them

our Christian ways and left them to choose or decide

for themselves.

The Berndts however, wrote that Aborigines were:

subjected to more or less constant pressure to renounce

all their primary aboriginal associations and become

‘Christians’ after the emotionally evangelical style

favoured by this sect. (R. & C. Berndt 1951; 134).

The Mission regime was harsh with respect to

Aboriginal children in their care. Those who used

swear words or who attempted to run away from

their dormitories (as many did) were punished by

being made to wear dresses of flour bags, or had

their heads shaved.

The specific practices utilised by the missionaries

are documented in the UAM’s journal The

Messenger . Visits were made to the ‘native camp’

three kilometres from the Mission itself, in order

to preach, and missionaries zealously intervened in

traditional mortuary practices in attempts to per-

suade the ceremonial parties that the deceased

should be buried as a Christian. The camps were

depicted as a region of sinister and Satanic

influences, and the old men were perceived to be

particularly evil for they ‘compelled’ the young to

learn ‘vile heathen practices’. For this reason, the

missionaries focused much attention on the initi-

ation of boys. Mr Green gained access to the secret

boards normally accessible only to mature and

initiated men. He photographed them and deliber-

ately showed the photographs to young boys

(R. & C. Berndt 1951: 137, cf. Young 1951). The

Berndts observed that the UAM made no attempt

to ‘fuse the old with the new’, and that the schooling

meted out to Aboriginal children ignored Abori-

ginal culture altogether (1942b: 57).

Despite this assault on Aboriginal belief systems,

ceremonies continued to be performed undisturbed

(R. & C. Berndt 1942b: 56). Indeed, the Berndts’

voluminous ethnography of Ooldea provides com-

pelling evidence of the ability of the Ooldea

Aborigines to withstand the missionaries’ message.

Despite the fact that large numbers of desert

people remained at Ooldea during the 1940s,

R. & C. Berndt discovered that there was no loss

of knowledge of rockhole and other water sources

(1942b: 68), and that the mythology and ceremonial

enactments of the Ooldea people revealed both

adaptation and resilience. Stressing the fluidity and

flexibility of Aboriginal religious life, the Berndts

wrote:

They have the right to interpret for themselves their

mythological dogma and blend it with the changing

conditions of life. When they are detribalized, a myth

may be extended; alien myths incorporated; new sites

sacralised and modifications in certain rites because of

white contact, obtained, But its structure and original

intent is unaltered (R. & C. Berndt 1942a: 329).

Precisely this process occurred among the in-

migrations of people from the desert and apu

(stoney) country north and north-west of Ooldea

— the intervening regions are now firmly incor-

porated into the country of those now living at

Yalata, and their kin in the north, Even the country

south of the railway line, previously Wirangu

country, was incorporated, according to

R. & C. Berndt (1942b: 65).

Informants living at Yalata today say that by the

late 1940s all their known relatives had ‘come in’

from the spinifex, although the patrol reports

compiled by Native Patrol Officers MacDougall and

McAuley show that small groups of Western Desert

people were still there throughout the late 1950s and

early 1960s — for the duration of the atomic tests

at Emu and Maralinga. After the Ooldea Mission

closed down in 1952, Aborigines who were unaware

of its closure made sporadic visits from the north.

42 M. BRADY

Visits of this nature are documented for 1953, 1954

and 1955. Finding the Mission closed, they simply

walked back out again. In 1957 a party of four

people (an elderly man, his wife and two children)

who had set off approximately twelve months

earlier to walk to Ooldea from Ernabella were

discovered by military personnel camped within a

contaminated area near the Marcoo test site.

(McClelland ef a/. 1985: 319-323). Survivors of the

family who now live at Yalata, report that they were

walking down ‘for rations’ and that they did not

know the mission had closed five years previously.

Some groups were taken into Cundeelee W.A,, as

late as 1963, and it was established that they too,

had traversed the Maralinga prohibited zones during

the years of the atomic testing programme (/bid.:

368). There is, then, evidence that the spinifex was

not entirely depopulated in the regions north and

north-west of Ooldea, until the early 1960s.

THE DEMISE OF THE MISSION

There is no doubt that conditions at Ooldea were

primitive and uncomfortable for the missionaries,

and became increasingly difficult for the Aborigines

camped there. As far back as 1938 there had been

plans to move the Mission — at that stage, to

Pidinga; then in 1941 Lake Phillipson, near Coober

Pedy, was proposed. In 1948 the UAM Messenger

told of the possibility of the Mission moving to the

siding a short distance away. In 1949 the Aborigines’

Protection Board Annual Report declared that

Ooldea was unsuitable as a Mission site, and anew

site was promised. There were additional pressures

for a move, though, which were unknown to the

missionaries. Walter MacDougall, employed by the

Long Range Weapons Establishment at Woomera,

was becoming concerned that the presence of

Ooldea as a rations centre was continuing to

promote movement by Aborigines between the

centres of population in the north-east, and the

railway line. This meant that they placed themselves

in the vicinity of the Woomera Range. When the

Aborigines’ Protection Board noted in their Annual

Report of 1950 that a pastoral property to the south

was under consideration as a new location for the

Ooldea people, he strenuously supported the

proposal.

The negotiations for the new Yalata property on

the west coast were protracted, and complicated by

the rivalry that emerged between the Lutheran

Church and the UAM over which denomination

would control the new establishment. The Lutherans

were opposed to another denomination becoming

established in an area where they held sway (they

had a mission at Koonibba, east of the new station).

The leasehold property was purchased by the South

Australian Government in 1951 (Hampel 1977: 6).

However, an internal dispute split the UAM: the

South Australian branch formed a breakaway

mission, and staff were forced to declare their

loyalties, The Greens and others at Ooldea decided

to remain allied with the Federal body, in

Melbourne. At the last minute, five days before the

Ooldea missionaries were to leave, the South

Australian branch announced that it had insuf-

ficient missionaries to take over the Ooldea people

— and so it eventuated that the Lutherans were

asked at short notice to intercede. It all happened

very suddenly, as the Aborigines there recall:

When Ooldea finished, too sudden. People were all

mixed up, don’t know where to go that time. People

were very sad when Mission finished . . . crying. (HW)

Sad day, mayi wiyaringu [food became finished] when

Ooldea closed, (TQ)

On 24 June 1952 amid some confusion, the UAM

missionaries left by train, and Lutherans from

Koonibba arrived to transport people south to the

new, and as yet undeveloped, property. The children

were to be placed in the Koonibba school as an

interim measure, for the Aborigines Protection

Board had expressed concern should the home

children ‘fall into the hands of the camp natives’

(Hampel 1977: 7). The ‘camp natives’ were, of

course, the parents and kin of the children, Initially,

the Aborigines were given the choice as to which

way they could go:

Mr Green tried to draft us out, which way we wanted

to go. We didn’t want to go bush way, too hard. (KQ)

South mob, west mob, all the groups were ready to go

each way. I went with Tarcoola mob and by truck up

to Bulgunnia. We stopped there for one week, then they

sent two trucks up [to get us]. We never said nothing.

We wanted to go north really, but thinking of rations.

(SY)

Anangu ngurpa [Aborigines were ignorant; i.e. did not

know what was happening]. (SM)

Isobel White collected accounts of the move in

which the women could not recall being given a

choice of destination (pers. comm.). The variety of

views highlighted the confusion of the whole

experience. The Lutherans succeeded in taking only

sixty-seven people down to Colona on the Yalata

property, and these were all Kokatha people (Hans

Gaden pers. comm., Hampel 1977: 8). The Cundee-

lee mob opted to wait for the next train going west;

and the north group decided to join kin at

Ernabella. As described above (and also by White

1985b: 222), they set off on this journey, disem-

barking from the train at Tarcoola and reaching

LEAVING THE SPINIFEX 43

Bulgunnia Station (already known to some of the

men). Here Walter MacDougall turned them back,

and arranged for their transport back to Ooldea

and thence to Colona on the Yalata property.

MacDougall had in fact stumbled upon the closure

of the Mission as he undertook a patrol along the

line. MacDougall’s subsequent Patrol Report reveals

that he was unaware that the UAM were pulling out:

From conversation [with Aborigines at 416 camp, east

of Ooldea] | gathered that the movement of all

aborigines from Ooldea to Yalata was imminent. I also

gathered that the people concerned did not clearly

understand what was to happen. They were under the

impression that they were to return to the area in which

they were born . . . On arrival at Ooldea the next day

I found that in fact preparations for the move to Yalata

had commenced (MacDougall 1952).

He described the scene as a ‘muddle’. Having

allowed the north-bound group to leave, he then

chased after them by road, evidently having thought

better of it. His report states ‘I decided to take

charge of those who had gone to Tarcoola’. It is

tempting to assume that MacDougall had specific

knowledge at that time of the impending decision

to Lest atomic weapons somewhere north of the rail-

way line. There is, however, only indirect evidence

that MacDougall had been alerted to this develop-

ment. His patrol along the East-West Line which

was interrupted by the Ooldea move was in order

to check the area as far west as Cook for a possible

extension of (what was euphemistically called)

‘range activity’. His Patrol Report leaves no doubt

but that his task was to keep Aborigines well away

from the range, and that his decision to intercept

the north-bound group was a part of this task:

All Ooldea Aborigines who originally came from the

north and who would, therefore, be likely to periodically

oceupy areas required or likely to be required by LRWE

range as far west as Cook, have now been transported

to Colona on their way to the new depot at Yalata .. .

Tribal natives from the Central Reserve will not be so

likely to travel south when they know that there is now

no ration depot at Ooldea (MacDougall 1952, emphasis

added).

It is hard to imagine that he had not considered that

the desert area west of Woomera was an obvious

choice for an atomic testing site. The public

announcement that there were to be atomic tests

somewhere in Australia had already been made four

months earlier, in February 1952. Dr Charles

Duguid, among others, had long surmised that the

Woomera region was a likely location (Duguid 1947:

14). Whatever his true reasons, MacDougall per-

suaded a large group (he counted one hundred and

five people) to abandon their planned journey

north, and to travel south, to Yalata station, to new

country. Once MacDougall reported that the move

had been finalised, his employers at Woomera were

extremely pleased; his performance was deemed

‘highly satisfactory’. Exactly a year later on 24 June

1953 it was publicly announced that atomic

weapons were to be tested in the long-range

weapons area. In October 1953, after the first test

(Totem 1) had occurred at Emu Field, another

location was discovered which was to be a per-

manent proving ground. This was at a site which

came to be named Maralinga, 53 km north of

Ocldea, directly in line with the Aboriginal routes

which followed rockholes north. It was just as well

the Mission had moved.

BLOCKING OFF THE COUNTRY

The fact that the area earmarked for atomic tests

encroached on an Aboriginal Reserve (proclaimed

at Ooldea in 1936) was of littie import. Moves were

made for its immediate revocation. It was described

as ‘abandoned’. MacDougall visited the Soak and

several sites of significance with ex-Ooldea men in

1954; he intended to ‘clean up’ the area by removing

ritual paraphernalia hidden there (MacDougall

1954). He was then able to report to his superiors

that ‘all active tribal interest is now at an end’, The

Ooldea Reserve was abolished on 9 December 1954.

Looking back on this period, Yalata people

believe that MacDougall ‘blocked’ them from their

country. They were right. Aborigines were

discouraged from walking north even to the railway

line, unless it was for an approved purpose. Military

personnel were stationed at Watson siding (the

supply point to the Maralinga village), and the

Lutheran missionaries reported planned Aboriginal

movements to the Maralinga authorities. In 1955

a large group of Yalata people were gathered in the

Coober Pedy area after ceremonies (probably

Kurangura). MacDougall found them there and

decided to:

... cut out all rations and start[ed] them on their way.

I arranged for most of the women to travel in passing

trucks ... thus ensuring that their men would not

attempt to travel overland via Lake Phillopson [sic]

Panthanna and Tietkins Well (MacDougall 1955).

An initiation party of Yalata people headed for

Cundeelee was intercepted at Ooldea in September

1956, by security officials from Maralinga. The

novice and two other Aborigines were allowed to

travel by train to Zanthus, Western Australia, while

the rest of the party, numbering one hundred and

twenty people, was instructed to wait until

permission was granted for them to travel west. This

was exected to take two months (Lawrence 1956).

Notwithstanding this extraordinary history of

competing interests whereby the Ooldea people

suffered the effects of a series of invasive and

exploitative actions on the part of Europeans, they

4a M, BRADY

ienaciously maintained crucial elements of sovial

organisation and their ritual respousibilinies. uw

kinsmen and kinswomen elsewhere. Visits to other

communities, und the reception of visuers tram

elsewhere, were maifitained over the early years of

their relocation to Yalata, and are still in place today,

There is documentation of visits ta Coober Pedy,

and fo Cundeelee, in 1954, 1955 and 1956 in order

to attend ceremonies, In 1956 two hundred people

from Yalata plarmed to travel west by train, and then

walk to Warburton; Yalata bosted ceremonial

parties from the north and west (see McClelland

eral. 1985; 301-302,

Tok TY AND ETHNICITY

Yalata people, with only a few exveptions, now

deseribe themselves as being Pitjantlatjara, The

exceptions are those who Identily themselves as

Yankunytjatjara, As with (heir kin in the north, they

now use the term wrengy uw describe themselves,

(a8 Opposed to piranpa [whites],

Jo view of the fact that their predecessors at

Ooldeq Soak were drawn from Many different

groups, il is remarkable thal Yalala people now

idenlily ew Gloe as being Pitjanijatjara. When R,

& C. Berndt worked at Ooldea Soak jn 194] they

noted the variety of different groups, of wlhorn the

Pijjantjatjara were but one. In fact, they observed

that the Antakarinja, originally trom the Everard

Ranges, formed the greater part of the camp

population. These were described as people wha

had travelled south, and in the 1940s ‘wandered’ in

the country north of Oaldea (Berndt 19412 1). White

noted in 1977 ihal the clesignation ‘Andagarinja’ or

‘Antingari’ seemed to have disappeared at Yalata,

and hypothesised that the group may have moved

elsewhere when Ooldea closed down in 1952 (White

1977: 105), However, reports from Aborigines

present at the time of dispersal state that there were

three groups; the west (Cundeelee) wroup; rhe south

uroup (sixty-seven Kokatha people), and the north

group (che ‘Piljantjatjara’, who departed for

Tarcaola),

Ut is likely that in recent years the designation

Antakarinja has become blurred into the group with

the grealest currency, the Pitjantjatjara. Distinetrans

belween groups were not always made, even in the

1940s. Berndt gives an example of an Antakininja

man Who ‘might at times identily himsell as

Bidjandjara’ (Bernd 1959: 90), IL is likely thar inter-

eroup dialect alfiliations have gmdually been

relinquished as a result of the social euvironment

and shared experiences of the ex-Qoldea people.

This process hud begun at Oaldea by the time of

the Berndts* fieldwork, and they observed intense

contact bepween different dialect groups which led

lo ‘luidily and varelessuess' of speech (R. & C

Berndt 1944b: 49). The people have been together,

in various permutations, for fifty years.

Nevertheless, Lhe present-day ‘community’ is rarely

communal, anid is in fact composed of numerous

autonomous family or hearth groups,

In wiore revent years, the incorporation of the

Western Desert Aborigines of South Australia into

groupings with some political leverage, as well as

their recognition by European law, has meant that

‘the Pitjantjatjara” have become an entity over and

above the original designation of those whu spoke

a particular dialect or identified with a particular

area of land, Yalata people became politicised

during the negotiations for freehold title to the

‘Maralitga Lands’ (now legislated under the

Maralinga Tjarutia Land Rights Act 1984, and had

watched the earlier developments in the north

culroinating in the Pirjantjaljare Land Rights Agr

/981, Asa result of these developments, as well as

those lyerors already mentioned, the ex-Ooldea

people living at Yalata, and al their outstation

established on the Maralinga lands, now understand

(hemiselves lo be a part of the lamer collectivity, She

Pijjantjatiara’

ACKNOWDLEBOMBENTS

His prper wes presented ian earlier deaf at a post

graduate seminar al the Department of Anthropology.

Universiry of Adelaide, sone years ago, Tay eratetul tor

The contributions of participants in thot seminan tater

thank Isobel White, Nie Peterson and Chris Andersen (or

fore Peco coniients. The United Aborigines’ Mission

in Adehiide allowed mie te have decese to mhicie aretives

forowhich Tam geueful, and | alka obtained urchival

material felannig (6 the Tanscontinertal Railway Urorm ihe

Australian Archives, then housed in Victoria. Some at (he

material in this paper was collected wm the contest ul

owdiie background malerial for Counsel representing

Aboriginal groups at the Royal Conimisaion imto British

Nuclear Tests in Australia. | underouk thik work a

conjunction with Kingsley Palmer from Tanuary to April

L985, and exrencl my thanks 10 Hind, as well as to Cea

Games and Addeew Collen! will whom we worked un this

beeUSIOTL.

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YOUNG, F. 1951. Goanna men give up their tribal totems.

Aust. Women’s Weekly, July 11.

1950. ‘Ooldea’. S. John Bacon,

COMING AND GOING : ABORIGINAL MOBILITY IN NORTH-WEST

SOUTH AUSTRALIA, 1970-71

BY A. HAMILTON

Summary

This paper has examined a body of data on population mobility in an isolated region of northern

South Australia to show that mobility was embedded in the social and economic adjustments

essential to Aboriginal society at that time. Rather than seeing these patterns as an example of

cultural continuity, I have suggested that they can be understood as adjustments to the conditions

provided on the frontiers of European settlement, whereby the maintenance of social relationships

and access to a network of significant resources provided the basis for economic and cultural

survival.

COMING AND GOING: ABORIGINAL MOBILITY IN NORTH-WEST SOUTH AUSTRALIA, 1970-71

A. HAMILTON

HAMILTON, A. 1987. Coming and going: Aboriginal mobility in north-west South Australia,

1970-71. Rec. S. Aust. Mus, 20: 47-57.

This paper has examined a body of data on population mobility in an isolated region of northern

South Australia to show that mobility was embedded in the social and economic adjustments

essential to Aboriginal society at that time. Rather than seeing these patterns as an example of

cultural continuity, [ have suggested that they can best be understood as adjustments to the

conditions provided on the frontiers of European settlement, whereby the maintenance of social

relationships and access to a network of significant resources provided the basis for economic

and cultural survival.

A. Hamilton, School of Behavioural Sciences, Macquarie University, North Ryde, New South

Wales 2113. Manuscript received 3 December 1986.

To early European observers the most remarkable

aspect of Aboriginal life was the absence of

agriculture, and the consequences which flowed

from that, particularly nomadism. The white

Australian consciousness has elaborated on this

theme, particularly in the popular concept of

‘walkabout’ as an innate Aboriginal characteristic,

used particularly to explain Aboriginal behaviour

which fails to conform to non-Aboriginal expecta-

tions about work patterns and predictability of

residence. Attempts to integrate Aboriginal people

into non-Aboriginal Australian society have been

informed by a set of expectations which link

together stability of residence, ‘civilization’,

productive labour, and a life-style focused on the

maintenance of a certain kind of domestic envir-

onment.

The difficulties of achieving this aim were noted

by Barron Field in 1825, He remarked:

We have now lived among [the Aborigines] for more

than thirty years; and the most persevering attempts

have always been made, ... to induce them to settle, and

avail themselves of the arts of life; but they cannot be

fixed, nor is it possible by any kindness or cherishing

to attach them (Field 1825: 244).

Various explanations were offered for this, The

poet Richard Howitt attributed it to the lack of

suitable crops:

Had they been in a more civilised state it would have

been singular; for no country on the face of the earth...

has been so destitute of the means of fixed residence,

corn and fruits, for the localisation of a people. It is

easy to call a native a fool for not providing himself

with a house, but it is not so easy to furnish him with

a fixed maintenance (Howitt 1845: 197),

However, even where a ‘fixed maintenance’ in the

form of paid labour or rations was provided, the

propensity of Aboriginal people to move from place

to place was not diminished. A simple economic

explanation was inadequate. Not suprisingly, as

scientific racism grew throughout the nineteenth

and early twentieth centuries, Aboriginal mobility

was attributed to uncontrollable impulses preventing

them from being ‘settled’; this in turn implied that

they were not able to live within ‘normal’ Australian

society and provided a justification for the various

policies of segregation and ‘protection’ which were

devised by successive administrations.

In spite of the historical and political importance

which has been attached to mobility, singularly little

attention has been paid to understanding the nature

of and reasons for patterns of movement in

contemporary Aboriginal populations. It has been

assumed that, with the demise of ‘nomadism’ in the

pre-colonial form, Aborigines are now ‘settled’, or

should be. Being ‘unsettled’ contains a host of

negative implications in European symbolic

systems: homelessness, rootlessness, vagrancy

(which derives from Old French, ‘to wander‘) all are

marks of inadequacy and failure in life.

Nevertheless, Aborigines in some areas at least

attach positive value to mobility, and strive to

maximise their access to transport and locations

between which frequent unhindered movement can

take place. The present paper examines data on

patterns of mobility in a remote cattle-station

community in 1970-1971, and discusses some of the

social and economic factors associated with it.

Studies of mobility among other previously

‘hunting and gathering’ peoples show that the

Aboriginal commitment to mobility is far from

unique, and that technological changes which

contribute to freedom of movement are

enthusiastically taken up. Many peoples who had

lived primarily as hunters and gatherers up until

quite recent times adopted herding as an economic

Ab A, HAMILTON

Strslegy under changes brought about by extertal

factors, thus “building in’ mobility to their coonomic

adjustments. More recent changes, latwely con-

nected with the availability of motorised transport,

have turther embedded mobility as a social and

cultural value, while somedines bringing ghaut

signilicant and negative economic consequences.

Pelto’s study of the Skolt Lapps of Finland

describes the way 1 which the snowmobile entered

the lite of the Lapps inthe 1960s, displacing items

such as reindeer-sleds and skis, and totally

trinstorming the economic base as well as systems

af prestige. Transportation of supplies, Firewood

and people had always been vo major adaprational

challenge to che Arctic; and the snowmobile offered

whal seemed to be a niiracilous solution. However,

the care and maintenance of vehicles created

problems, and the reliance on imported fuels had

profound effeets on economie choievs. Unexpec-

tedly, however, the snowmobile alsa resulted in

drastic changes 10 traditional herding practices;

reindeer hated the machines, and rapidly became

Us-domesticaled. so that total herd numbers

dropped dramatically and many herdsmen were

forced ta seek other livelihoods, particularly wage

labour (Pelto 1973).

The Navaho, whe like the Skolt Lapps had been

largely hunters prior to che uvid-vuneteenth cenpury

and then became herders, also have maintained a

commitment to mobility, Homestead groups sitll

location several tines a year, in a comples pattern

which emerges from ‘Lonsideration of grazing,

water, wood supply. ritual beliefs, and the dynamics

of the hamesread group itself” (Downs. 1977) 354).

Where previously they had relied on Horses, cars and

trucks rapidly became much more important, and

the number of vehicles owned doubled during the

time of the study (1960-61) (iff 376). The need

1 MMalltain access © More than One prea is not

merely the result of the imperatives of a herding

economy, but alse nieang that individual members

cay move back and fo#lh to avoid contlic! within

the group! Ldid.| 376).

ABORICINUS 480 Mout pry

Unlike the Lapps and the Navaho, Aborigines of

Central Australia have not made an ‘inlermeditate®

cconomic adjustaent requiriig the maintenance of

mobilivy, yer chey have embraced with enthusiasm

all the means available to enhance it, notably the

camel for a shor} period of time, and then the motor

vehicle. And fay thon) ois shill being a marker of

Snodernisation' aud the abandonment of traditional

peactices, Abongines have used their increased

mobility to reinforee and extend some jispects of

their pe-Buropean social and economic systent.

This paper Will afgue, however, that ocaprations

brought about dining the earlier phases of

adjusiment to the new economic order were of equal

or greater significance for the emergence of present

mobility patrerns.

Motor vehicles have became un essential aspect

of vantemporary Aboriginal life in the Centre (and

outboard motors in the coastal and riverine regions

of the north) tor a number of reasons. The

importance of access to hunted meat (and to some

extent gathered foods) is one: with permanent or

semi-permanent settlements there is virtually mo

game Within Walking distance, However. (he

iicreasing arid in some areas now almost conyletre

reliance on purchased food has made the economic

aspects of hunting much less significant, although

ritual presentations of game animals seen to have

remained important.

The ‘outstation nmyovement’, resulling in the

proliferation of extended tantily settlements, af

great distances fron) reliable Supplies, medical

favilitics aud schools, has mean! dha aecess to

vehivles has become a virtual necessity. Only peaple

livitie al centralised settlements can survive without

them, while prestige and full access to the most

important torms of Aboriginal soeiality are

seriously impeded without a “foyota’

One of the major reasons for mobility is the

maintenanee of ritual connections. As Kolig has

youd, “Two of he nvost striking features of present-

day Aboriginal religious life are ils heh mobility

and the far-reaching communications newyork’

(Kohg 198]; 109). Access to vehicles (aud orher

forms ol transport such as aeroplanes) has increased

the intensity and speed of ritual transmission, whole

‘Laws’ belie passed on trom one area to another

ACTOSS MIST Spaces, accompanied by the people who

are transmirting them. The present paper is not the

place to analyse chese proliferating ritual

connections, the reasons for them and their impli-

cations, however the vital necessity a! mobility for

the preservariots of these practices is one of the

Slrongest facturs in the Aboriginal willingness to

make signilicaml economic investments in the means

of thei maintenance.

li is nevessary Co pause a momentand consider

just What is meant by the term ‘mobility’ A high

level of movement from place to place is charac-

teristic Gf developed socicties because of work

practices which separate the domestic environment

from the workplace Gn contrast with ‘peasant’

economies where the site of production is alsa

largely the site of consumption). Daily journeys af

30 km are pol uneomimon fur those working in large

elocw Yetthis movement from home to work does

nol seem to connote ‘mobility’, Rather, the com-

muter’s jourhey, be it short or long, ts a mark af

his/her insertion inj the structures of contem-

ABORIGINAL MOBILITY 49

porary society, where the two destinations are part

of a single, comprehensible and rational adaptation.

Mobility beyond this is generally classifiable into

two major types: ‘holidays’, defined as periods

outside the spaces of both ‘work’ and ‘home’, and

visits to relatives on specified ritual occasions, such

as Christmas, weddings and funerals. The only

other ‘rational’ explanations for mobility are those

brought about as a result of work-patterns which

depend on it, such as fruit-picking, shearing, etc.

(occupations often seen as inferior by mainstream

society).

Mobility as a consequence of a pastoral economy

(as in the case of the Lapps or Navaho) can be

similarly understood (although there is evidence to

suggest that much more at the cultural/symbolic

level is implied in these cases). However, the mobility

of Aborigines fails to conform to expectations based

on this Eurocentric economic rationality. Aboriginal

people will, at no notice, join a vehicle travelling

hundreds of kilometres away, taking with them no

money and few provisions, and will have no idea

of when or how they will return. They may thereby

forfeit some opportunity such as employment or

may miss receipt of some benefit, such as a pension

cheque. They may leave behind medicines which

they have been told are absolutely necessary to their

well-being, as well as valued goods which they know

are likely to be damaged or to disappear altogether

during their absence. Although mothers will not

leave behind young children, single people, married

people (with or without their spouse) as well as

couples with older children, or no children, are

equally likely to undertake such journeys. Even

older children may attach themselves to a passing

vehicle and not be seen for weeks or even months.

This behaviour, however, requires at least two

conditions; firstly, that the vehicle is in the charge

of a relative, and secondly that relatives can be

found at the end-destination and intermediate stops

along the way. Travelling from place to place can

only be undertaken in this apparently haphazard

way precisely because an elaborate network of

reciprocal exchanges underpins it, whereby relatives

accept unannounced visits from one another and

provide the wherewithal for the visitor’s survival if

necessary. And an important purpose of such

journeys, even in the absence of ritual, marital or

other commitments, is to maintain this structure of

reciprocal interdependence by calling upon it.

This could be considered as a continuation of

mobility patterns of ‘the past? — by which is

denoted the autonomous Aboriginal societies prior

to European colonisation. This is precisely the

viewpoint adopted by those observers who wrote

with annoyance or despair of the Aborigines’

ingrained habit of ‘walkabout’, While an analysis

could proceed showing how the economic, ritual

and marital patterns of autonomous Aboriginal

societies depended on mobility, this would merely

be to state the obvious. However, this view overlooks

the existence of patterns of mobility which were

called into play precisely during the decades when

the early structures of European-Aboriginal

interactions took place — the periods of cattle-

station and mission living in the Northern Territory,

northern South Australia and inland Western

Australia.

Patterns developed during these phases, far from

inhibiting or restricting Aboriginal mobility, in fact

fostered it. The movement of individuals and groups

was required as a means of ensuring social and

economic survival in the absence of fully-articulated

mechanisms of social and economic incorporation

into the developing frontier society. Because

Aborigines were not provided with the means which

would have made a more ‘localised’ existence

possible, because the cattle-station economies

required workers at unpredictable intervals and in

unpredictable numbers, because few other forms of

employment were available and cash incomes rested

on unpredictable sources (until the introduction of

cash payments for welfare benefits), and because

housing, education and health services were not

provided,-none of the pre-requisites for a ‘settled’

life on the Anglo-Australian model existed.

The fact that Aboriginal social and ritual require-

ments were relatively well-suited to this pattern

meant that a unique adjustment was able to

develop, which preserved elements of ‘traditional’

behaviour, while meeting the minimal requirements

of the European economy which were both

unavoidable and indeed desirable from an

Aboriginal viewpoint. Thus the patterns of mobility

which are still evident in much of Central Australia

today are based not on a direct preservation of ‘the

past’, but on the reproduction of an Aboriginal

social and political economy which has its roots in

‘tthe early days’ of European settlement.

Further, given the realities of present-day

existence, these patterns have a continuing utility.

For as long as Aboriginal people live in the remote

regions in areas where there are extremely limited

commercial possibilities in mainstream Australian

terms, and for as long as they have limited or no

access to sources of funding other than those

derived from Government welfare programmes, and

few or no prospects of social mobility into better

employment in urban areas, the Aboriginal

economy as it has developed over the past few

decades will remain the only option. Two essential

elements of this economy are the maintenance of

networks of communication across a variety of

living-spaces, with associated access to resources al

those sites, and the ability to resolve the inevitable

structural and interpersonal conflicts thrown up by

50 A, PIAMILTON

contemporary social realities by Ieving away fromm

them,

PAL TERNS GF MGHILITY Is NORTHWESTERN

SOUTH AUSTRALIA

Here, then, a body of data is presented for a

particular small Aboriginal camp in north-western

South Australia in order to elucidate the parterns

of mobility and che reasons for it evident at that

time, This analysis shows how the presence of a

particular set of economic and bureaucratic factors

enhanced Aboriginal mobility, and how this meshed

with Aboriginal prerogatives in maintaining links

fo land and access to subsistence resources, resultilig

in Continuous population movement which none-

theless had a definite ‘rationality’, Not the lease of

this was the abiliry to move away from vonflicts

when (hey arase, 10 assert the independence of the

individual and his/her ability 1o Survive elsewhere,

and to re-organise population s{ructures at different

locations in such a way as Co ensure available labour

for the sustenance of old people and the redistri-

bution of what cash income was available

Collection of these data was one aspect of an

eighteen-month study of an isolated community

living on a cattle-station, Everard Park, This was

one of the last stations taken up in the area, being

developed only in the early 1950s, while it was one

of the first to be purchased for the Aboriginal

residents under the dramatic policy changes of the

early 1970s. The Aboriginal inhabitants, a mixture

of Yankunytjatjara and Pitjantjatjara speakine

people, had had long-term contact with olher

European settlements in the area, notably Ernabella

Mission to the north, the cattle-stations to the east

and south-east (DeRose Hill, Lambina, Todmorden,

Wallatinna) and With towns in the area, notably

Oodnadatta aud Coober Pedy (see Fig. 1, page 2).

Some men and wonten had undertaken waye labour

for brief periods, bur these contavts had been ar

from intensive, and most of the people had largely

lived on the area of the cattle-station or nearby for

two decades, They had worked for the various

Europeans who had developed the station, sinking

bores and building roads, and had had frequent

contact wilh residents of Pregon and Indulkana

when these settlements were established in the

1960s, the former as an ourstation of Ernabella

Mission, and the latter as a‘Government settlement.

Most of their relatives lived in 1970-71 at one or

other of these places, allhangh soyne who had come

from the West had relatives at Amata, Warburton

or other seltlements in Western Australia, ancl same

older people had relatives at Finke, Qodnadarts,

Coober Pedy or Port Augusta. Decades previously,

other relatives had travelled south across the desert

und now lived at Yalala, alihough lew contacts were

maintained at the time of the study (see loyne &

Vachon 1985, Hilliard 1968),

The community studied was relatively molated at

the beginning of 1970, Although people frequently

made their main camp near the station homestead,

to be close to medical attention and to stores (largely

flour, tea, sugar, jan) andl a restricted range of fresh

foods), this depended on the approval of the station

owners, and when cattle operations required it they

were told to move elsewhere to live wear one of the

many other bores on the property, Thus at the

beginning of 1970 {he camp was located abou) 50

km from the tormestead, nor far from the main

track to Freyon, another 90 kin away,

Population and mobility

For reasons which will became obvious later, it

is somewhat arbitrary to deseribe ile composilion

of the camp population, since il changed so often

(ef. Denham 1975), However, there was a core of

stable residents, mostly pensioners, and 4 group of

families whe were children of the older residents;

Some among these families might move away, but

others would generally return to take their place.

Ln addition, there was a fluctuating group of seg-

regaled youths, sometimes numbering as many as

twenty, and some childless pensioner couples,

Because [Here was no school or medical facilities,

and po-store, the camp was not typical of living sites

in the area at that time, although it was probably

quite typical of the populations on the cattle

stations 1 the period prior to the 1960s when the

government programmes of settlement were estab-

lished.

The population tluctuated jn fumbers on an

almosr daily basis, as will be Shown below, However

there were generally 40-60 people, divided by age

and sex as follows (based on camp populations at

the end of 197A),

TABLE 1. Population composition by age und sex,

Age Female Male

o-1) 7 6

11-20 5 ltr

21-30 2 +

31-40 4 5

41-50 4 i

51-60 3 4

HO 3 2

TOTAL 2& 3I

* inclides segregated tews

This population was divided into a number af

groupings. There were fifteen (amily groups. Eigh!

ABORICHNAL MOL ITY ‘1

of these were core residents, who were absent from

the camp on infrequent oceasions only Twa others

were vhildren of core residents. who divided their

time more or less equally between the cattle station

community and an adjacent settlement where

another parent was resident. One lamily was that

ol a permanently employed station worker, and

usually lived at the stution rather tha in the camp,

Three families joined the camp between March and

June 197] and refnained there; one had previously

been resident but had moved after a child had died,

another bad lel't alter a fight and moved to a nearby

settlement, the third came fram Amata after a fight

there, All had siblings or parents in the gamp at

the lime they joined it.

There Were six married pensioner couples, and

three widows und three widowers, one of whom

was contiually on the move on ritual business, and

the other two of wham were highly mobile. There

were Six boys in segregation, nol all of whom were

vhildren of camp residents; same had been sent

{rom elsewhere to live in the boys’ canip because

towas known for tight social control of youths,

However, on acvasion the segregated boys! camp

numbered as many as thirty.

Under-represented in the populajion were young,

families with young children (parents in the 21-30

awe bracket), Because of the unavailability of

school and medical services, peaple wiih young

families cither preferred to or were ald to live al

Indulkaua or Fregon, although they frequently

visited their parents and siblings and with the

passage of ime may weil have taken up residence

ae Everard Park once again,

Any such deseniption, however, ts slalic and

disguises the intense level of mobility which

oceurred from day to day in the Everard camp-

Because of rhe siiall size of the camp and the fact

that | lived in il, it was possible fo collect

information on all movernems in and oul of the

camp, of visitors and permanent residents. [

collected such data for the whole of the period

September 197) to September 1971, but the records

of the period between September 1970 and May

197L were lost When my caravan burnt down.

Hence the full range of annual movement cannot

now he re-consirucled, However, figures for 100

days in 197) are available, and although nor

vomprehensive chough for a complete atalysis,

nonetheless provide a ‘window’ into the patterns

of mobility and (he many and complex reasons for

if during 197L. Since data of this kind are seldom

available, | considered 1 worth analysing in some

detail, recognising fully the limitatians of the

restcleted time period involved, Interestingly

eniugh, examples of all the major events involving

mobility nanetheless occurred in this period aud

demonstrate the multiple factors invalved in

Aboriginal residence patterns ata time of transition

in Aboriginal life ip the fegion.

At the beginning of 1970, there were no motor

vehiules. available to the camp. However, the

cammunity as a Whole began to save money fora

ruck, and by August 1970 had become the proud

owners ol (he “Red Truck whielt had been

purchased on their betralf by the slation preprietar.

Shortly afterwards a group of brothers acquired

a ‘Land Rover’ and an old sedan, However, sane

men also owned a number ol horses, and, more

importantly, three camels complete wilh carmel

gear, acquired years before [rom the last camel-

Iransporters ig the area (perhaps in the early

19505), Thus this period i 1970 was a bridge

between the use of camels, which had been

enthusiastically laken up by many Pitjantjatjara

people in the region in the 19405 and 50s, and the

adoption of motor vehicles,

Europeans and the cash economy

This period was also a lime of greatly accelerated

non-Aboriginal activity in the area. Where for

decades there had been only missionaries, station-

owners, patrol officers, doggers and some other

itinerant workers, changes in government policies

a! beth Srate and Federal level began io result in

frequent visits (rom representatives of the various

relevant bureaucracies, usually gentlemen in shorts

and long socks whe came and Went With aston-

ishing rapidity and carried gul cursory

‘consultations’, mostly with whites in the area,

Nonetheless, welfare polines which had begua in

the 1960s with the assimilation policy began to

inlensily and change direchon again in the build

up to the accession of the Whitlam government in

1972. South Australia was in the vanguard ef Land

Rights policies for Aborigines, and various Stare

government agencies became ingreasingly con-

cerned with the welfare of the large and still very

Sraditionahst’ Aboriginal populations in the far

north.

In practice, this meant a much greater level of

contact between Aborigines and those delivering

welfare services. The disastrous state of infant

mortality became an issue at this time, and resulted

in much more Vigorous attempts to moniror the

welfare of mothers and babies. Af Fregon and

Indulkana, health services were delivered by agents

of che South Australian Heallh Department in che

form of nursing sisters. linked by radio photie to

the Alice Springs Flying Doctor Service, These

services were extended to the cattle Station

community in the form al a fortnightly visit Fram

the Indulkana scatf, known as ‘the Patrol’, which

brought a nursiny sister with scales and equipment

for assessing health starus, the pension cheques for

pensianers and families, and a limited range of

ar A. HAMILTON

fresh foods such as eggs, oranges, tinned milk and

baby foods, designed io improve the nutrition of

ihe target groups. Other goods sold included

sundshoes, camp-sheets, and Ply-nets to be worn

over halts, The visits became weekly shortly there-

after, und parents with young children were

expected 19 be in camp every Tuesday so thar their

health could be monitored,

Nol far betind the pension-week patral came the

sialion stores truck, bringing what were still called

vations’. The statian manayement, like all those

in the centre and north maintained @ store from

which the Aboriginal residents could purchase basic

food needs. Items were sold for a fixed price, such

as 50 vents, ane dollar or Five dollars, ostensibly

{Oo simplify the giving of change. Until the late

1960s, Aborigines had not recelyed their welfare

entitlernents in cash al alls instead station managers

had received a per capilu sum from Government

sources out of whith they were to feed and provide

nevessities such as blankets for the unemployed

Aborigines resident on their stations, This created

a certain set of cxpectalions among Aboriginal

people abour the obligations existing between

management and residents, which accorded! well

with Aboriginal ideas of reciprocal responsibility;

they provided workers for the management, and

uve management fed the camp. (Fora moredetailed

analysis, see Hamilton 1972, and cf. Peterson 1977,

1985.) However, the introduction of payments in

ihe form of welfare cheques which then Were

cashed, fram which necessities were purchased, had

to some extent marerially advanraecd the

Aborigines but also created resentment and

contusion among the older people who still

expected to be fed and clothed by the stahon

management as before. Hence the arrival of the

station stores truck close behind the lodulkana

patrol, and the taking back of large sums of money

for rations, was revarded as (heft, especially by the

ald people who los! no opportinily lo complain

about il to other Europeans, most of whom

misinterpreted i! as a complaint about the high

prices being charged,

Reliahle figures for cash ingome and expenditure

were obtained over several sample pends. Poor

io Seprember 1971) single pensioners received $32

per fortnight and married couples $28.50 per

fortnight each. An $8.00 mother’s allowance was

paid ta widows, and child endowment of $2.50 far

ihe First child and $3.50 for subsequent children.

These rates were raised somewhat alter September

1971. Child endowment was paid to all tamilies

wirk children, while anemployment benefits were

paid sporadically, Men of four houscholds received

Unemployment benefit for part of the year, while

other male visitors reveiving beneliy were alten

resident in the community, Eight single men apd

women were at times employed by the station for

generally very low wages,

An estimated toval income forthe vear (971 from

these sources was as follows:

Pepsions (ane and widkes) S13 7M

Child ondowrnent 5 | Rag

Unemployment benetits 5. 5 876

Cash pale to stanon workers 5 400

TOTAL 27 10)

While some other cash income was derived from

four men who went (yil-picking for two months

at the beginning of 1971, very little of this returned

to their Families. Some other minor sources of

income tnay have not heen recorded,

In any case; (his figure provides an average per

capita ancome of about $444 per andaum cel.

Peterson 1985; 91, ¥2)

While this is a low income by non-Aboriginal

standards {at.a time when Australia-wide disposable

income per capita was $1739, Peterson fbjd,) it

nonetheless provided a significant immediate su

plus alter staples were procured, in the sense thar

individuals and family groups were able to retain

a considerable portion of this cash income and use

il lor other consumption purposes, Most prominent

among these was the purchase of motor vehicles)

Sample records were kept of expenditures on

staple items fram the station stores and the medical

patrol, For example, during one fortnight in

January 1971 when $543.00 was received in cash,

a roral of only $217.00 was spent on goods,

including such things as aspirin, cough niixture,

hars, sandstioes and bullets. The balance was not

all saved, since part of all cash payments recervedl

by nlany pensioners was sent onto married children

living at tndulkana as part of tbe obligation of

parents to support their children. Qne woriéan

regularly sent between $15 and $20 a fortnight. This

practice iiself consututed an important part of the

local economic system. maintaining exchange

relationships with relatives who could laler be called

on 10 provide shelter, resources and hospitality in

return,

However, during one six month period over $120)

was Saved (owards (he purchase of vehicles. The fact

that people could afford to spend relatively little

on food was self related to the availability or

vehicles, since a significant proportion of food was

fracured hy huwting with rifles on day or overnight

trips, A monthly average of 348 kp of meat-weight

from large game animals (kangaroo, emi and eure)

was oblained over a Kvelve month perlod (farige

204-627 kg per month) which averages al around

().23 kg of meal pet persan per day, Since this does

nor iclude food from other bush sourves (goannas.

eges, grubs, fruits) il ts apparent thac the dietary

contribution of subsistence food was significant,

ABORIGINAL MOBILITY 53

Thus a circle of interdependence existed such that

the limited access to cash resources was itself

sustained by a fairly heavy commitment of what

cash was available to investment in vehicles which

permitted an adequate level of consumption from

non-purchased foods. (Also important was the

purchase of rifles and bullets, although this was a

much less expensive investment.)

However, as was the case among the Skolt Lapps,

motorised transport also involved other costs,

notably fuel and repairs. Although some repairs

could be carried out at the station, and also at

nearby settlements, in the main repairs were made

on-the-spot, using parts salvaged from other

vehicles and some brilliant improvisations, such as

melted plastic from combs to stop up holes in

radiators. The ingenuity of these repairs could only

be marvelled at, although the long-term result was

a vehicle held together by string and hope; this,

combined with the poor conditions of local ‘roads’

and the general over-loading, meant that the useful

life of any vehicle was severely limited. Over the

observation period no vehicle lasted longer than

four months.

Movement and camp composition: a case study

However, the levels of mobility observable were

not due solely to the availability of Aboriginal-

owned transport. The insertion of even this remote

desert community into a complex network of

external relations, largely with bureaucracies located

in towns or cities outside the local region (notably

Adelaide and to a lesser extent Canberra and Alice

Springs), together with the local presence of

missionaries, government settlement officers, and

the station itself, meant that frequent and regular

‘rides’ were available on which people could often

obtain lifts from place to place.

In addition, some individuals went on foraging

expeditions on foot away from the base camp, even

using camels, and others set off on foot to visit

distant settlements hoping to encounter a car on

which to obtain a ride somewhere along the way.

To give a detailed account of these movements

over a specific period of time permits us a glimpse

of Aboriginal life in the region, and illustrates the

complex network of considerations which affected

population size and composition, as well as

individual choices and the many social factors

which accounted for them. Appendix | sets out the

composition of the camp population, indicating

usual residents and temporary visitors, together with

the vehicle movements in and out of the camp, and

the effects these had on the local population. For

brevity I include here only figures for the two

months July and August, although figures for four

full months were collected, Data for the sample

months are typical of the overall period. Even

though this was the coldest time of the year, when

ritual activity as well as hunting was generally less

vigorously pursued, examples of all major activities

were encountered in this period.

It is apparent from this brief sample of time that

multiple events affected this small community. Most

noticeable were the ‘patrols’ from Indulkana (6/7;

12/7; 19/7; 27/7; 4/8; 14/8; 23/8) which often

removed children for the purposes of supervised

medical care; in the case of young children their

mothers would accompany them, and they would

find shelter with relatives until they were considered

ready to return,

The requirements of the station management for

workers resulted in frequent calls into the camp;

young girls would be asked to go to the station to

assist in domestic chores, men and boys would be

called on to assist with stock work and so on. These

tasks would often last only a short time; domestic

workers might be called in for extra assistance when

the station had a number of visitors, and then

returned to the camp a few days later. For example,

on 10/7 two men were taken to cut firewood and

one woman and one young girl to assist when

visitors came to the station. On some occasions a

man and his family would be asked to camp out

at a bore to carry oul necessary repairs. For

example on 11/8 two adult male workers returned

from carrying out bore repairs, one of whom had

been accompanied by his wife, while four single

youths were taken back to maintain stockyards.

Visits from Europeans other than station

personnel or sisters occurred relatively frequently

also. Some of these were officers of various

departments. On 12/7, for example, an officer from

the South Australian Department of Aboriginal

Affairs came with the Indulkana patrol to ‘have a

look’. On other occasions ‘locals’ would call in to

the camp to renew acquaintance with people there.

These included Patrol Officer MacDougall (well

known to all Aboriginal people in the area after his

decades of service) from Woomera (19/7), the

Reverend Bill Edwards from Ernabella mission, who

arrived with a researcher Mr Noel Wallace for a

brief visit on 1/8, and Jim Downing, from the

Uniting Church in Alice Springs, who was visiting

the area from 28/7 to 4/8.

The Oodnadatta police also made frequent calls

(17/7; 22/8; 31/8). Usually they were on their way

through to other destinations in the north-west, but

they would call in to the camp to discuss matters

such as registration of dogs. People feared the police

visits, even though they were on all occasions of my

field-work quite innocuous: old ladies would run

for the hills accompanied by hordes of dogs, and

on one occasion all the children were sent to hide

because a rumour had gone around that they were

going to be rounded up and taken away to school.

54 A, HAMILTON

‘The earlier phases of Aboriginal relations with the

police were still stronu jn the minds of people,

Again, the presence of an anthropologist in che

cump created its own consequences, ‘The anthra-

pologist would be asked to take a party of people

ont camping (7/7) 1678) and return them Jater afer

a period of intense hunting and gathering. Uniden-

Hfied vehicles occasionally drove through, and the

inthropalogist would be asked to go and find out

wito they were, especially since people were

extremely alarmed abow! the prospeetors whe were

searching for opal, (This occurred on 15/7.) ‘Vhe

antlitopologist's supervisor, Br L, R- Hiatt, came

for a brief visit during the period discussed above

(9/8-12/8) and was taken around the countryside

on hinting trips,

Other vehicle moveremt was Aboriginal: on 3/7;

WAYT, 12/7, 47 20/7, 23/7, 24/7) 25/7) 26/7,

U7; 31/73 6/8; 17/8; 21/8; 24/8; 30/8, Many of

these were ‘passing through’ visits, cither from

Indwkana towards Ernabella or in reverse; On

virtually each occasion the population of the camp

changed, with some people being dropped off and

others joining the vehicle, The actwal figure totals

cannot reflect this change, since they give nly raw

numbers, but even so they indicate the extent of

mobility,

The spate of movement towards the end of July

was the result of |he holding of a very important

ceremony at the camp, This meant not anly thar

people came ond went through the camp, but that

within the camp itself peaple had 16 make adjust-

ments All wanten With young children had to shift

their camps aboul a kitomelire away from the main

camp so a5 to be out of the way of the ‘business’

(ceremony), which required some major transpor-

tation of food, bedding, utensils and so on,

On 29/7 ten adults and eleven children left the

main camp for a site about 7 km away, The anthro-

pologist's vehicle was used to transport swags and

staple foods and chree of the smallesr children, while

the rest of the group walked, gathering food on the

Way, resting at a ‘dinner vamp’, and arriving in the

late afternoon. People remained at this camp for

varying lengths of time, some of the older children

walking back alter a couple of days, The last family

returned on 8/3, in time for the arrival of the

lndulkana patrol and the stution stores. The

expectation of arrival of these vehicles, with

associated chequcs, money, stores and medicines,

puneiuated tbe Mow of time and clearly affected

people's decisions about the patterning of their

activities. On Ue day these visits were expected,

women went early to Ure bore for walter, washer

clothes and olildren, and venerally prepared to pur

on their best Face’ fer che arrival of ve European

authority figures.

These frequeiir movements both of carip resi-

dents (and their visitors) and of other Aboriginal

and non-Aborigina) people in and out clearly

reflected the multiple available choices for that time

and place, However, ‘movement’ was not limited to

this, The camp itsell shifted quile regularly,

Individuals would move thew canip-sites with the

associated shelters about every three weeks or so

depending on how dirty the area was beconmbile.

People re-ariented the openings of the sheliers

according ro che prevailing winds; in winter this was

particularly important with the southerlies sweeping

up fram the Antarctic. Finally, social relations

within the camp determined peaple’s living stiles:

alter an argument or disavreement, shelters would

be conspicuously re-located down towards the ereek:

bed or bavk towards the hills, which meant close

relatives Would also move (heir shelters Over lime.

Thos the camp itself was in a constant state of

fluctuation io normal times. When a death al a

relanive ocvurred, even a long way away, the whole

cary was tequired to move to a completely new

location, shelters to be rebuilt, and new ahgnmenrs

worked out. Sonretinves rhese removals were to

places niany kilometres away, and required frequent

vehicle trips to transport all the canyp impedimenta,

the old people, the small children and of course the

doys. Many dogs would be left behind to find their

own Way to the new site, although on one o¢casion

a party of old ladles took rwo days to walk fo the

new area so as nol to leave their dogs behind,

While trom this perspective Aboriginal hte

seemed a4 constant process of nrovement from one

camp to another, one settlenvent1o anoacher, ane ser

ol relatives co ynother, there nonetheless was a

continuity ta the process which only became

apparent Over lime, The people involved in this

prooess were not a random group. They were pate

of a distinet network which did not include

everybody at the adjacent settlements, let alone

people fron) further afield.

When unidentified vehicles arrived at the

boundaries of the camp there would be rapid

speculation about the identity of the visitors.

Aboriginal peanle who were not close relatives of

someone in the camp (for example, someone travel-

ling Irom Coober Pedy co somte point further cork),

would wait at the camp boundaries jo thelr vehicles

until somebody (usually a senior man) arrived to

‘sponsor’ them ip, When @ vehicle was driven by

aclose relative, but contained someone less closely

related Who had rot beer seen for some time, the

vehicle would drive into the close relative’s camping

aren but the ‘stranger’ would wait in the car until

someone came and spoke to lhim/her directly.

Over tinie, the same people would be seen coming

aid poiugs sometimes (hey would stop olf and join

the camp for a period if they had close relatives

ABORIGINAL MORILITY 45

there. This might be said fo be wnvi/e emporary),

bul somelimes stretched tnto moarnths or even

longer, at which point their residence would be

focused on this camp rather than somewhere else

and they would fave rherr welfare entillenients

transferred there, This created prablems for those

who were previously in che Nortern Terrirory or

Western Australia, and people sanmctinics niissed

Heit cheques for months and thet received a lefty

windfall. In which case, they would, of course. Iry

tu buy a cae.

One final poinr of eritical importanve is the way

in which the readiness ro move camp tron one

seiilement to another was a Sundamenial

mechanism by which intra-Family and intra-com-

tunity conflicts were ‘resolved’. This is a topiv

Which requires a much more detailed analysis than

(here is space for here. Howeven there is a fase

cinaring connection between ‘conflict’ and carp

composition, which was apparent on many

occasions during the period of figld-work,

in the circumstances of life in an Aboriginal

camp with no facilities such as reticulated water,

electricity, garbage disposal, heating and cooking

laeilicies, the level of physical support necessary to

sustain non-able members is considerable, Old

peaple, aften with rheumatism and emphyserna,

people suffering acute or chronic illnesses, mothers

with stnall children, all require a ouninvum daily

quots ol Jirewood, water, and prepared food, When

camps include few younger, able-bodied people, rhe

work-load increases dramatically, especially iP some

form of hunting and gathering is also mecessary to

mainiain satisfactory nutrition. The shortage of

able-bodied people becomes even more acute when

it is Younger people who ure always in demand for

te pastoral economy,

As population shifts occur such that old people

have few younger relatives to call on for support,

the level of tension rises, quarrels break oul, and

the ‘morning discourse’, when people stale their

concerns to the camp in general, beeomes

increasingly heaved, The complaints made are

general, rather than specific; no hanes are

mentioned, no particular individuals arc singled out

us nor doing enough. Rather, general statements to

co with ‘atziness’, ‘not caring for relatives’ and so

on are made. Inevitably, after time passes williowt

any resolution, someone loses their temper nnd a

full-scale fight breaks out. Often, other matters too

are raised, which exacerbates the problem, Old

women will mise digging slicks to one another, ot

old men will stalk about brandishing spears

News of this state of affairs inevitably travels

along to the other settlements: and, with ne

apparent organisation or specific requests for

assistance, one or two young families will arrive in

the camp and take up residence fora time, or sare

adult sige men will jou fhe carp on a temporary

basis and go hunting every day.

Cunflicts arising from other causes will be

resolved similarly by one or other of the disputants

(and Ihen immediate families) Simply moving away

for w period of time until the cause of the conflict

iy resolved or forgotten.

Thus the ability to move Irom place to place, the

lack of investment in items Which ‘lock’ people into

uns resilential area rather than another, and the

maintenance of webs of obligarion and eommuni-

cwion 10 other seulements and vommunities all

ensure thal reseurces ean be pe-distributed as the

need arises, and (hat situations which could result

in. dramatic con!rontanon are avoided by the simple

expedient of going somewhere else.

Without doubt these were important mechanisms

in pre-colonial desert society too. However, the

insertion of Aboriginal people imlo a particular

form of vonnection with non-Aboriginal society vir

the pasroral economy enhanced the value of such

adaptations, while no alternatives which would have

accorded with a more ‘settled’ mode of adjustment

were created. Thus (he maiitenance of a commit-

ment to mobility came to be embedded within the

udjusinients of ‘the carly days’ and continued on

into the period when white Australia began its most

active penetrations into the Aboriginal society of

the Central Desert) It would be of interest Lo

compare mobility patterns amotge people whose

past did not include a period of adjustment to the

pastoral presence, that js, those Who went from a

relatively autonomous Aboriginal existence into the

laree selllements of the 1960s, ft may be that

mobilicy remains an important mechantsny there

roo, solar as tew, i uny settioments in che remote

regions provide the kind of infraseruvture which

would render unecessary rhe maintenance of some

level of mobility, The relaionship between necessity

and desire, however, remaiis to be explored.

RUPERENC LS

TILLD, 4, 1825, On tre Aborigines of New blolland and

yan Dieman's Land, Je Vield's Ceogrdphigal Memoirs

ul New Soul Wales; hy Various Hands , 2 London

(ho polisher [uatiowted },

DENT LS ML WL W_ 1978. Population properbes ef physigal

sroups among the Alyawanm tide of Cenimt Averalin

Areh & Phes Antiray, ut Oeearia, WQ): 114-151

DOWNS, IT. 1997. The Navaho. dG. & 4, Spintler

(hds.). Cultures Around the World! Five Cases” Hole

Kinehan anid Winston, New York

HAMILTON, A, [972 Tacks and whites: the

relationships of change. dren 30: 14 48.

HILLIARD, W.M,. 1968. ‘The People li Beier Hoddes

ond Stoehtan, Gondon,

56 A. HAMILTON

HOWITT, R. 1845. ‘Impressions of Australia Felix’.

London (no publisher indicated).

KOLIG, E. 1981. ‘The Silent Revolution: the Effects of

Modernization on Australian Aboriginal Religion’, Inst.

for the Study of Human Issues, Philadelphia.

PELTO, P. J. 1973, ‘The Snowmobile

Technology and Social Change in the Arctic’.

Cummings, California.

Revolution:

PETERSON, N. 1977, Aboriginal involvement with the

Australian economy in the Central Reserve during the

winter of 1970, Jn R. M, Berndt (Ed.), ‘Aborigines and

Change’. Aust. Inst. Abor, Studies, Canberra.

PETERSON, WN. 1985, Capitalism, culture and land rights:

Aborigines and the State in the Northern Territory.

Social Analysis 8: 85-101.

TOYNE, P. & VACHON, D. 1985. ‘Growing Up the

Country: the Pitjantjatjara Struggle for their Land’.

McPhee Gribble/Penguin Books, Melbourne.

APPENDIX |. POPULATION COMPOSITION AND VEHICLE MOVEMENT, JULY-AUGUST 1970.

Date Men + Vis. Wamen + Vis. Chn+Vis, Total Vehicle Movement

JULY

1/7 7+ 0 12 + 0 5+0 24 Nil

2/7 740 12 + 0 § +0 24 Nil

3/7 743 12+ 3 5 +6 36 Fregon car with visitors.

4/7 7+ 0 12 + 0 5 +0 24 Car returns to Fregon.

5/7 7+ 0 12 + 0 5 + 0 24 Nil

6/7 8+ 0 13 + O 9+0 30 Ind. patrol — one family

returns,

T/T 6+ 0 IL + 0 74+ 0 24 Overnight camping trip — own

vehicle,

8/7 8+ 0 13 + 0 13 +0 34 Return four single men.

9/7 8 + 0 13+ 0 13+ 0 34 Station truck.

10/7 6+ 0 12+ 0 12+ 0 30 Workers to station.

11/7 6+ 1 12+ 1 12+ 0 32 Fregon car. One couple stay.

12/7 7+ 1 241 9+3 33 Ind. patrol, DAA officer, Car

from Ernabella.

13/7 642 12 +1 9 +4 33 Car to Ind. with one woman.

Worker returns.

14/7 64 1 10 + 2 2+ 5 26 Car from Ernabella. One family

stays. Workers and chn to

station.

15/7 64 1 10 + 2 2+4 26 Unidentified car.

16/7 641 10 + 2 2+ 5 26 Station truck to Fregon.

17/7 64+ 1 10 + 1 2+ 5 26 Police, Truck rets, from Fregon,

18/7 6+ 1 10 + 1 2+5 26 Nil

19/7 84 1 84 5 +3 26 Ind. patrol. Patrol Officer

MacDougall.

20/7 8+ 4 447 0 +3 26 Fregon car — ‘business’, Wom,

and Chn to separate camp.

21/7 8 +6 441 O+ 4 23 Cars return Fregon.

22/7 8+ 6 7+4 5+4 34 Wom, and chn return main

camp.

23/7 9+ 6 94 5 944 42 ‘Business’ — Cars from Ind.

24/7 94 3 5 +3 12 +7 43 Cars to Fregon. Car from Ind.

with chn,

25/7 943 9+3 10+ 7 41 Ind. car to Fregon.

26/7 942 943 10 + 8 41 Male worker to station. Boy

dropped off from Ind. car

returning.

27/7 8+3 9 43 10+ 7 40 Ind. patrol.

28/7 742 9+ 3 10 + 7 38 Station stores, J.D. visits.

29/7 4+1 5 +1 2+4 17 Party leaves to camp nearby.

30/7 54) 6+ 1 2+ 0 13 Car from Ind. going to Fregon,

31/7 6 +0 74+0 6 +0 19 Station truck. One family

returns from DeRose Hill.

ABORIGINAL MOBILITY

APPENDIX 1, POPULATION COMPOSITION AND VEHICLE MOVEMENT, JULY-AUGUST.

Date Men + Vis. Women + Vis. Chn+ Vis Total

AUGUST

1/8 6+ 0 7+ 0 6 +0 19

2/8 6+ 0 7+ 0 6+0 19

3/8 6 +0 8 +0 9+0 23

4/8 8+4 10 + 1 21+ 4 48

5/8

6/8 9 + 11 +0 22 + 42

7/8 10 + 0 13 + 0 23 + 0 46

8/8 11 + 0 14 + 0 24 + 0 49

9/8 11 + 0 14+ 0 24 +0 49

10/8 11 +0 14+ 0 24 +0 49

11/8 13 + 0 15 + 0 20 + 0 48

12/8 13 + 0 15 + 0 20 + 0 48

13/8 13 + 0 15 + 0 20 + 0 48

14/8 13 + 2 15 + 1 22. +3 56

15/8 13 +1 15 + 1 22 + 3 55

16/8 11 + 0 12 + 0 16 + 0 39

17/8 12 + 0 13 + 0 20 + 0 45

18/8 12 + 1 14+ 1 23 + 3 54

19/8 12 +0 14+ 1 23 43 53

20/8 10 + 0 14 + 1 22 + 3 50

21/8 11 +0 16 + 1 23 + 3 54

22/8 11 +0 16+ 1 23 +3 54

23/8 11 + 0 16+ 1 23° "3 54

24/8 12 + 0 15 + 0 22 + 3 52

25/8 12 + 0 15 + 1 22 + 3 53

26/8 12 + 0 15 + 1 22 + 3 53

27/8 12 + 0 15 +1 22 + 3 53

28/8 12 +1 15 + 2 22 + 5 57

29/8 12 + 1 15 + 2 22 + 5 57

30/8 11 +1 14 + 2 20 + 5 53

31/8 11 + 1 14 +2 20 + 5 a

Vehicle Movement

B.E. and NW. visit from

Ernabella.

Visitors leave.

Woman and chn return on foot

from out-camp.

J.D. returns. Ind. patrol. Stores

truck. Some return from

outcamp.

No data available

1 family returns from Fregon.

More camping party returns.

Station truck. Ind. sister.

Last camping family returns.

L.H. visits.

Nil

Station workers return from

station by station truck.

L.H. leaves.

Nil

Ind. patrol — people return.

Station truck.

Small party to camp out

(A.H.’s car).

Ind. car — one family arrives.

Station workers return.

1 worker to station.

Men to stock camp.

3 return from Ind.

Police visit.

Ind. patrol.

Ernabella car passes through.

Nil

Family returns from station.

Nil

Ernabella car returns.

Police call en route for Docker

River.

Ind. = Indulkana.

NOTE: The category ‘visitors’ refers to people living for shorter or longer periods in the camp, but who were still

described as ‘temporary’; in some cases their sojourn might be overnight only, in others their residence might

stretch into months. Hence it is a relatively fluid category; yet there seemed to be an analytic need to distinguish

between those primarily identified with this camp and others.

JUST ONE TOA

BY L. A. HERCUS

Summary

This paper gives details of what has been learnt from Wangkangurru people of the background of

just one toa, relating to a claypan named MaRaru in the Simpson Desrt. The evidence confirms the

view that the toas reflect the situation and the thoughts of Aboriginal people at Killalpaninna

Mission in the first decade of this century.

JUST ONE TOA

L. A. HERCUS

HERCUS, L. A. 1987. Just one toa. Rec. S. Aust. Mus, 20: 59-69.

This paper gives details of what has been learnt from Wangkangurru people of the background

of just one toa, that relating to a claypan named MaRaru in the Simpson Desert. The evidence

confirms the view that the toas reflect the situation and the thoughts of Aboriginal people at

Killalpaninna Mission in the first decade of this century.

L. A. Hercus, Faculty of Asian Studies, Australian National University, G.P.O. Box 4, Canberra,

Australian Capital Territory 2600. Manuscript received 13 August 1986,

The toas are well-known as beautiful and colour-

ful artefacts from the Lake Eyre Basin. The book

by Jones & Sutton (1986) gives the historical back-

ground as well as handsome illustrations of the toas.

Their function has been described as follows:

The purport of the toas may be described as topo-

graphical in the sense that each represents, and serves

as an indicator or sign-post to, some particular locality.

Their shape, colours, patterns or appendages depict

realistically or ideographically, either certain conspi-

cuous or peculiar natural features of the localities

represented, or very frequently these details have

reference to episodes which are believed to have

occurred during the frequent legendary wanderings of

the Muramuras.! (Stirling & Waite 1919: 111).

The original data on the toas come from the

writings of the missionary Reuther, who worked for

many years at Killalpaninna on the lower Cooper

where not only Diyari people but also people from

all other groups of the north-east of South Australia

were assembled. Reuther explained as follows:

When Aborigines travel from one campsite to another,

but expect friends or acquaintances to visit them within

the next few days, a toa is made relevant to the present

camp (the one they have transferred to) informing the

visitors that the (inhabitants) have moved for one reason

or another to this or that spot (Reuther 1981, XIII: 1).

Whether the function of toas was really quite as

practical or whether it was mainly artistic remains

uncertain. Reuther’s statements convey the view that

the toas were ephemeral items, expected to give

information to visitors who arrived ‘within the next

few days’, and that some of these items were

preserved thanks to the interest of the missionaries

at Killalpaninna. The toas captured the imagination

of many people and they have aroused interest

particularly from the iconographic point of view,

as in the work by Morphy (1977), There are however

many problems that remain unanswered. The aim

of the present paper is to examine the background

of just one toa in an attempt to define more closely

some of these problems — not necessarily to answer

them, and to give some indication of the place of

the toas in the mythology of the Lake Eyre Basin.

The one toa is Mararuni, No. 14 of Stirling &

Waite’s collection, No. 121 of Reuther’s list, No. 362

in Jones & Sutton’s publication. The additional

information used for this paper stems from work

carried out from 1965 onwards with older people,

now deceased, of Wangkangurru, Arabana,

Yarluyandi and Diyari descent. They had extensive

knowledge of the traditions of the Lake Eyre basin.

THE DISTRIBUTION OF TOAS

The attribution of the toas to various ‘tribes’ is

itself of great interest, in that they are mostly Diyari

and Wangkangurru, with a number of Yawara-

warrka, Ngamani and Thirrari. There are only a

couple each attributed to Pirlatapa, Yandruwantha,

Wangkamadla and Yarluyandi people, only one

each for Kuyani and Arabana, none at all for

Karangura. The distribution of toas among the

different people and the relative frequency or rarity

of toas for particular areas does not appear to

correspond to any other known lines of demarca-

tion, linguistic or otherwise. The Lake Eyre Basin

was an area of much cultural and linguistic diffu-

sion: this is one of the most fascinating aspects of

the region. Basically however, the languages of the

Lake Eyre Basin and the adjoining area of far south-

west Queensland belong to two different groups and

four different subgroups (see Fig. 1).

The distribution of toas does not relate to any

of the fields of similarity either genetically as in the

diagram shown above or through lines of linguistic

diffusion. Thus for instance Arabana and Wang-

kangurru are dialects of the same language, and the

people had close ritual, social and cultural ties. It

is difficult to imagine that there would be anything

that the Wangkangurru language or the Wangkan-

Yura-Miru Group Karnic

L. A. HERCUS

Group

Pal Nharla 5.¢. Palku s.g.

Yura $.g. Karna s.g.

Arabana Diyari

Kuyani Wangkangurru Thirrari Pittapitta

Adnjamathanha Wangkatjaka Ngamani Neurlupirlu

Nukuna Karangura Wangkamadla (Lanima)

etc. Yarluyandi etc,

s.4.-subgroup

FIGURE 1. Language relationships in the Lake Eyre Basin.

gurru cultural system would share with Diyari but

not with Arabana, What then brought about the

existence of numerous Wangkangurru toas as

opposed to the one solitary Arabana toa? The

answer seems to point in the direction of availability

of these objects at Killalpaninna at the time that

the missionaries became interested in toas.

Karangura people were closely associated with

Ngamani people. There are plenty of Ngamani

toas, but none are Karangura, The absence of

Karangura toas may be due to the fact that there

were very few Karangura people left by the turn of

the century. The late Mary Dixon (Diyari) occasion-

ally spoke of them: she was at Killalpaninna from

the beginning of the century on as a young married

woman and even learnt a Karangura song from

these last people. It seems probable however that

they had all gone by the time interest awakened in

the toas a few years later.

The toa ‘Mararuni’ belongs to MaRaru, a

Wangkangarru site in the Simpson desert. Wang-

kangurru people had gradually begun leaving the

FIGURE 2. Mick McLean Irinjili in the Peake Ranges 1968 (photo G. R. Hercus).

JUST ONE TOA 61

desert in the latter decades of last century and the

last groups left in 1899 (Hercus 1986). The oldest

of the people who were alive in the sixties, Mick

McLean IJrinjili (see Fig. 2) and Maudie Naylon

Akawiljika had clear recollections of their

childhood and youth, living in the desert without

any direct white contact. Maudie had subsequently

moved to Killalpaninna and lived there for some

time. She knew the Rev. Reuther. Other slightly

younger people had considerable indirect knowledge

of the Simpson desert. Nevertheless even the oldest

of the people who showed so much knowledge of

language and traditions had no knowledge of toas.

They did not know the word ‘toa’ in Diyari nor in

any guise that it might have had in Wangkangurru.

On the basis of:

Diyari ‘noa’ = Wangkangurru nhupa ‘spouse’

I had tentatively tried to suggest a Wangkangurru

word ‘thupa’ but without any success, as no one had

heard of it. I tried to describe toas but again I drew

a blank. There might have been such objects, they

agreed, but none of the people really knew.

It is difficult to understand why, amid so much

traditional knowledge, there should have been such

ignorance about the toas. I was forced to the

conclusion that toas were rarely used in traditional

days and became of interest as artefacts only in the

early years of this century.

THE SITE AT MARARU

On the very last major field-trip that Mick McLean

undertook with us in August 1975 in the Simpson

Desert he talked at length of the site at MaRaru.

Speaking in Wangkangurru interspersed with some

English phrases he said?:

Text

MaRaru ngura katjiwiRi. Malkara. ngura_ katjiwiRi puthu pirda-lhuku

MaRaru camp great. Malkara. Camp great

puthu. maRa-ru.

dish. Hand-with dish beat-IMP there

irlanha pirda-lhuku maRa-ru, mudlu

thus beat-PURP hand-with sandhill it-ACC

kaRu

there

thangka-ngura warpi-nangka-ngura mudlu

sit-CONT lay-CONT S-CONT sandhill

L3: mudlu

sandhill

nguru mudlu

other snadhill

nguru?

other?

M: mudlu wila-wila wadlhu parlu idni-ngura muthu

sandhill many place flat lie-CONT like

dish

beat-PURP

puthu pirda-rna_ kaRu right round thangka-rda

sit-PRES

uka-nha nhanhi-lhiku. mudlu

see-PURP

sandhill

wantantara,

very high

like that plain right along, I don’t know about now, might be grass over, I don’t know,

waru-ki-thiva!

long, long ago

yarndi malka anti-nganha! anth+irda

of yore not now-from! me-LOC

thutirla-nga njarinjara-nga anha ngunta-ka ~~ wadlhu

boy-LOC small-LOC me show-PAST

anja-ru

father-by. He-of both-of country old man

parkaya-kunha pick'm up there thangka-thika-lhuku walta thika-lhuku’

time

rat-kangaroo-of sit-return-PURP

uka-kunha-ruku ngura-ruku.

he-of-to camp-to.

L: thutirla karna-ma-lhuku?

Boy man-make-PURP?

wathili anthunha-ru

country own

mine-by

uka-kunha pula-kunha wadlhhu mathapurda nguru-ku mathapurda

other-of

old man

kaRu

return-PURP there

62 L, A. HERCUS

M: katha-nangka-rda

Go-CONT 5-PRES see-IMP-stand-IMP — two-by

nhatji-raa-tharka-rna pula-ru

nguyu-nge ularaka

one-LOC History

wangka-rda mathapurda Ngeudluwalni-ru all witha there witha

sing-PRES old man Wallaby-by boss

katjiwiRi Neudluwaltu witha pirdayi-ngura uka-ru

big Wallaby boss. Beat-CONT — him-by

boss

tharka-nyeura

stand-CONT

pita-pita marlka-marikau, mathapurda kidni— kidni-pula mathapurda

chest stripe

Old man preal greal-Lwo

old man

Neudluwaltu two partners, Karna-pula mathapurda-pula yadningka

Wallaby man-two ald man-two

young man

wila-wila-purru-thu, Yadningka parkaya — neudluwally yadnineka

many-having-indeed, young man kangaroo wallaby

wila-wila pula-kunha arluwa-thu,

many both-of child-indeed. It

they reckon he been wadlhu ngurku puthu idni-ka

country good — dish

about 40 men sit round’m pirda-lhuku maRa-ru,

hit-PURP — hand-with,

L: wadni wangka-lhuku?

ceremony sing-PLIRP?

ularaka.

ceremony, History.

M: ularaka =wangka-lhuku, not wadni,

History sing-PURP

L: ularaka, uljurla padni?

History woman none?

M: wangka-rda uljurla yaka-vaka-rinaru, — kari thika-rna

be-PAST

young man

uka minka-hi puntu-pantu not panty

something small lake

not lake

neura-ruku

Sing-PRES woman chase-away-haying, they return-PRES camp-to

thadlu mathapurda kari mapayi-lhiku pirda-lhuku.

Only = man they sit-PURP beat-PURP.

wanti kanhangarda thanyka-ngura kudnangekari-ku tjarlpa kari

corkwood — there stand-CONT — south-to tree they

tharka-arka-neura = wanti-thi— wila-wila.

stand about-CONT corkwood many.

1 don’t know about now, might be like this! Many many years ago.

‘Translation

MaRaru was the main ground, the Malkara ground,

It was the main camp for striking a large wooden dish.

They used to strike it maRaru, ‘with their hands’. They

were looking at this sandhill. There was a sandhill there.

A really high sandhill lay there.

L: There was sandhill upon sandhill?

M; There were many sandhills. But there was also some

flat bare ground, like that plain here (ic. the Makari

air-strip), but | don’t know about now, there might be

vrass on it. I don’t know, it was so long azo, way back

in the past, not recently! When I was a young boy my

father showed me this, my own place. It was the place

of both those two (the Two Men) including that other

old man, The Rat-Kangaroo, he picked up Newdlwaltu

(probably the Crescent Nail-tailed Wallaby, On\chovelea

/unata) to come back and stay in his own camp (at

MaRaru).

L: To put boys through the rule?

M: They walked about, They stayed and watched and

sang the History together, the Crescent Nail-tailed

Wallaby did the singing. All the ritual leaders were there,

and the biggest leader of them all was the Wallaby. He

Started beating a big wooden dish, he with the stripe

on his chest. He was the main one, along with the Rat-

Kangaroo, ‘There were two of them, the Two Men, the

‘Two Old Men. They were there together with a big group

of young men, Rat Kangaroo men and Crescent Nail-

JUST ONE TOA 63

tailed Wallaby men. They were the children of those

two. There was a bit of a lake, not really a lake (but

a claypan). They reckon it was a good ground; about

forty men sat in a circle beating wooden dishes, maRaru

‘with their hands’,

L: To sing a ceremony?

M: To sing a History*, not a ceremony, a History.

L: A History, with no women present?

M: They sang after they had got rid of the women. The

women went back to camp. Only the men sat together

beating their wooden dishes.

Corkwood trees grew there, there was a stand of them

on the south side. | don’t know about now, it might

be (treeless) like this (ie. the air-strip)! It was many

many years ago (that | saw it). .

Unfortunately Mick McLean became seriously ill

and we could not get to MaRaru on that final trip

with him. There are only limited literary references

as to the whereabouts of MaRaru. . It is shown on

Hillier’s map (Hillier MS), but the Simpson Desert

sites are given more or less as a list on that map,

without proper geographical reference, as none was

available at the time, not even the saltlakes of the

eastern Simpson are shown. Howitt & Siebert gave

a vague indication of the whereabouts of MaRaru:

‘The place Mararu is said by our Wonkanguru

informants to be not far from Birdsville, in a

southwesterly direction’ (Howitt & Siebert 1904:

110).

MaRaru is in a south-westerly direction from

Birdsville, but not close at all. We have much greater

detail from Lindsay, who obviously heard the name

on his journey across the Simpson Desert in

January 1886. In his journal of the expedition, while

describing how he travelled from the Beelpa native

well to the Balcoora well he states: ‘then good plain

1 to 3 miles north, Mourowrooinna plain’. Describ-

ing his return journey he says: ‘keeping a bit to the

north, crossing a main sandhill Tarrabulla and the

Mawrowrooinna plain’ (Lindsay MS). This is no

doubt his way of transcribing MaRarunha (for the

final -nha see below).

We have Mick McLean’s account, quoted above,

of what MaRaru was actually like. Both he and the

other old people who had been in the Simpson

Desert gave additional information. MaRaru was

a small claypan at a point where several sandhills

ran together either on or close to the MaRaru plain.

There was no permanent water at MaRaru, and it

was made clear that rituals at this site took place

only when there was some surface water about after

rains. The MaRaru plain is a favoured location, it

is like a vast valley between sandridges. It is well

vegetated mainly with salt-bush, but after rains it

is beautiful with an abundance of flowering cassia

bushes, clianthus, and all the usual desert wild-

flowers. I had travelled on a number of occasions

through the MaRaru plain on the way to the

Beelaka, i.e. the Pirlakaya native well, but I had

never had a chance to search for the famous claypan

on the ground: the late Mick McLean confirmed

the general location of the site from the aircraft

when we flew over with Robert Ellis in 1975, It was

not till July 1986 that, with the help of the South

Australian Aboriginal Heritage Unit and the assist-

ance of Peter Clark with his light plane, we ulti-

mately found MaRaru (see Fig. 3). The four fingers

(the sandhills) were clearly visible from the air, and

it was located at the north-western edge of the plain,

The site had been narrowly missed by a seismic line,

but as soon as we approached from the south it

became obvious that here was a very special place

indeed. The claypan is sheltered from view by the

sandhills and forms a secluded arena where rituals

could take place: nobody could have approached

the site without being seen from afar from the top

of one or other of the four sandhills. There are signs

of occupation all around the area, including a few

fragments of grinding stone. This confirms Mick

McLean’s statement that women were permitted at

the site until the ritual actually started.

Reuther, when describing the toa, must have

sensed some of the enthusiasm of Wangkangurru

people about this site. His usual painstaking report-

ing gives way to what he himself implies are flights

of fancy:

On coming to this place Wutjukana found a gorge in

the local hills with four minor gullies. . .In wetter years

small streams trickle down from these gullies, these we

find (illustrated) on the toa by way of row upon row

of red dots. All these streams trickle together into a

deep waterhole (red) at the bottom of the toa. No

wonder that these dark (‘black’) inhabitants of the

desert retreated to such a spot in times of drought!

(Reuther 1981, XII: 121).

Ironically the fact is that the Wangkangurru did

not visit MaRaru in times of drought: they stayed

by their underground wells, the mikiri, which did

have permanent water. It must be remembered that

there is no permanent fresh surface water, there are

no rocky hills in the central Simpson desert and no

creeks anywhere in Wangkangurru country, apart

from the lower Diamantina and the Kallakoopah

— a look at any map will confirm this. Reuther had

never visited the central Simpson Desert which in

those days was inaccessible, and he therefore inter-

preted the sandhills as hills and the claypan as a

waterhole. The landscape indicated by the toa is

different from what Reuther could have imagined,

but the basis of his information from Wangkan-

gurru people was of course accurate, in wetter years

there would indeed have been tiny streamlets

(‘Weesserlein’) dripping down in small gutters

between the sandhills: these were the weather-

conditions in which Wangkangurru people longed

to see MaRaru.

64 L. A. HERCUS

FIGURE 3. The MaRaru claypan (photo L. A. Hercus).

MARARU AND THE TWO MEN

The toa ‘Mararuni’ refers to what is probably the

place with the greatest ritual significance in the

whole of Wangkangurru country: MaRaru is the

main Simpson Desert Two Men Initiation History

site. In Wangkangurru mythology, as mentioned

above by Mick McLean, the Two Men are identified

with Ngudluwaltu (probably Onychogalea lunata,

now extinct in the area), and Parkaya (Caloprym-

nus campestris, the now totally extinct desert rat-

kangaroo). There is a song cycle about their activi-

ties at MaRaru, and there are also long lines of song

radiating out from there, and connected with the

journeys of the Two Men out from the desert to

instruct other people to the east and the south-west.

There is also another ‘line’ which was felt by Mick

McLean to be the finest in Wangkangurru litera-

ture: the ascent of the Two Men into the sky,

walking up to the clouds and beyond. It was his

favourite song cycle.

Because of their ritual importance the Two Men

from MaRaru came to be known by all the major

authors who studied the mythology of the area:

Elkin gave an outline of the story of MaRaru and

the Two Men in his manuscript notes (see Hercus

& Sutton 1985: 23). Howitt mentions the MaRaru

site in his Native Tribes (1904: 783) in Siebert’s

appended legend of ‘The Wanderings of the Yuri-

ulu’ i.e. the Two Men. The story of the Two Men

from MaRaru is furthermore given in some detail

by Howitt & Siebert (1904). This article even

contains a footnote giving an explanation of the

name which is grammatically and semantically

acceptable and is in fact identical with that given

by Mick McLean: ‘Mararu is to complete with the

hand, to strike the pirha, that is to strike the up-

turned wooden bowl, in a dance. Mara is hand and

“ru” is the Wonkanguru causative termination,

which is in the Dieri “/’” as mararu, marali’ (Howitt

& Siebert 1904: 110).

A variant of this explanation is given by Reuther

(1981, VII: 1195) in his list of place names:

Mararuna, Wkml.

Mara=‘hand’, runa=‘the back, the obverse side’.

Meaning: ‘to beat with the hand on the obverse side’.

Whilst performing a sacred ceremony here Pitikirina

beat time with his hands on the obverse side of a

coolamon. This is still the practice to this day, and is

the reason for this place being (so) named.

From this explanation it is clear that Reuther was

fully aware that this was a ritual site, but the

JUST ONE TOA a5

Ancestor named here, Piuikirinw, does not limure

anywhere else in Renther’s work as a person, aod

is not one of the kriewn fames of the Two Men.

There is however a Ngamant placename Puikici

Which is explained as meaning to show one’s

backside’ (piri- ‘backside’, Aéré- to show’ VEL L831).

Ths leaves little doubt that here we have a case of

Reuther giving a nickname instead of the standard

tanie of. an Ancestor. There are other well authen-

tivated instances of this, Murry, the imporvant

Crane Ancestor whose chants were sung by Mick

MeLeun is referred to by several different partes in

Reuther's work, never by his main name, Wurrie.

One of these nicknames Ngeuripali-Nganipali

‘hurying® would be totally inexplicable and we would

have no idea that it referred lo the Crane were it

vet for Mick MeLean’s song-cycles in this the

wicked Crane having huoself caused a preal heal-

wave constantly asks to be buried jn danip sane

Similarly Pilikirina seems very much like a nick-

ame perhaps referring to one of the more

humorous aspects ol the story of the Two Men,

The story of the Two Men, central to Wangka-

neue traditions, 7 pot direetly mentianed by

Reulher m conncerion with the toa, He associates

the site with a minor malfer Connected not with

Pikirina as in Vile VI98, but with an ancestor

named ‘Wutjuka’, ‘The suramura Wurjukana had

a servant (mili) whose index and middle fingers had

grown together, Therelore ihe middle linger also

appears thicker on the toa’ (Reuther 1981),

Wutjukg’ in fact appears oo be a joint name for

the Two Men. The Two Men of Wangkaneurru

tradition always travel as a pair, and on the few

occasions where “Wutjuka" is mentioned elsewhere

in Reuther’s writings be is on his own with fust the

usual ‘followers. The name “Wutjuka' is confirmed

as a name for the Two Men by Horne & Ajstan

(1924; 162) wha call him ‘Witraka’, and speak of

him in the sinvular, ascribing fo hum the intra-

duchon of circumcision by meuns of a knife al

Karlamurina, an event that is a major episude in

Ihe song cycle of the Two Men, Reuther was familiar

with the story of the Two Men and evel kiew about

their ascent into the sky CI9BL, Xt: 108), He calls

them Malkumalku-wulu, the Two Youne Men’

Whether he ebose to eall the Two Men, "Wutjuks’

or anything else, in discussing the toa Reuther did

nor connect the main myth with MaRerv, onty the

minor ipgident,

‘There are bwo problems connected with the actual

site al Makarie Why did Reuther say that the site

is Wangkamadls (198), VU; 1195) but list the toa as

Wangkangurru? Why did Reuther give an explana-

non for the plave-name (ihid.) that is different from

the explanation for the toa (W981, Sis 12) and 1981,

Nts 121)

The answer to the first question is ner hard to

find: the site at Mf@Raru was well known outside

Wangkangurru country because of the extensive

rravels of the Two Men, Wangkamadla people had

a very special association with the MaRaru myth

as the Two Men figure in a long sang cycle, partly

Wanekangurru and partly Wangkamadla, called the

Hapiva. sung to us by Mick McLean i May 1968,

In this the Two Men have come in company with

the old people and with their young brother Thiwr

‘Spark’ tom Maariv to Wangkamadla countty to

a place called) Kudngne With faeces! (for which we

do not have a toa). The place ts so called because

the locals, whe don’: like oursiders, vent their il-

feeling on the younger brother and keep pelting him

kudnora, The Two Men clean up young TAtw/ but

when it happens again and again hey get more and

more angry and finally call over the ancestral Fire

which is burting far away to the north. ‘They ask

their own ald parents to dig a deep pit and get way

down into the cool earth while they go up on a

sandhill calling up the fire, “What are you two

looking at?’ say the Jocals in Wangkamadla. ‘We

are jus! watching @ distant excrement of fire (ie

smoke)’ say the Fwo Men, answering in Warg-

kanvadla with a pointed hint at what has been going,

an at Andagra: Vinally the fire races up and destroys

the Whole camp and Incidentally Thrwi as well, and

il burns away along che Diamantina. Because this

was # very major Wangkamadla myth Retuther

could well have heard Lhe name MaRaru from

Wangkamadla people. As the geography of

Wahekangurru and Wangkamadla country was of

necessily a mystery lo him he cannot be criticised

for assuming that the site was Wangkamadki.

lt is harder to explain why there should be

divergent explanations for che place-name and for

the toa, and Why the Ancestor connected with the

lon should be called "Watjika’ and the one

eonoecred with the sire should be called ‘Pitikirina’,

The differences refleet Reuther’s honesty in

reporting: he did not make changes to avaid major

discrepancies ii his subject matter, It seems hkely

that aver the many years thal he was ar Killal-

paniniia Reuther collected his data piecemeal, On

account of the many nicknames used it seems likely

that some of the Ahoriginal people who spoke to

the highly respectable Reuther, could wor resist

makine a few jokes calling Ancestors by either rude

or esoteri¢ names.

Diverpences bel ween the explanation of a place-

ume and the corresponding, toa are common in

Reuther’s work. OF all place-names the ane he knew

hest was ho doubr Killalpaninna: he lived there for

eighteen years. The nanie was Airla-wilpa-ni-nha in

Diyari and meant ‘vagina’, Reuther was so unhappy

about this that he ended his brief comments to the

mythological background of rhe place name (1981,

Vils 643) with (he exclarnation O depraved heather-

dom!’ Yet in the discussion of the toas we hear

vorhing of the myth about the place name and

6b L_ A. HERCUS

nothing ever of the old Woman alicestress Whose

kirla-wilpa was invalved, only the male miuranura

of the story, who admittedly is called Kirlawilina,

is mentioned: ‘The white part of the toa represenms

a hill. The two small dots are caves leading into the

hill. tL is believed that the murwinure Kirlawilina

emerged from the earth via these caves, Hence the

place-name’ (Reuther 1981, XIML: 63)-

In XIE: 63, in the deseription of the actual toa

the explanation becomes positively fomantic and

the real meaning of kirla-wilpa is not mentioned;

this is hardly surprising in view of the revulsion Felt

by Reuther. The legend thar follows appears highly

contrived, The emphasis as in the case of MaRaru

ison the place, not on the original myth,

Reuther’s derivation ol the place-name MaRarir

from the notion of hitting a coolamon with the

hand during a ritual danee, fits ii with Mowire &

Siebert’s account (1904; [L0) and js confirmed by

what we have learat fron Mick McLean, above all

it gives at least a Hint of the place being a major

ritual centre. The explanation given for the toa on

the other hand looks much more like an wd hoe

creation: it fits the toa and it fits in with what we

know of the appearance of the site, the sandhills

running together. Amazingly, ft vives no indication

of the real importance of whe site, and chis in irself

teaches us a lesson! toas were intended above all else

to depict a place, The name of a place always hac

some mythological implications, and these are

usually reflected in the toas, The toas however are

Hot an inventory of myths, or else the most famed

myth of all would have been mentioned.

PROBLEMS OF ATTRIBLITICN

Mararuna (Reuther 1981, Vilp 1195) ts a rare

instance of a sife being attributed to ene eroup

whereas iL belongs Lo another, If happens frequently

however that foas are aticibuted 1a.one group when

the Linguistic evidence and what we know of the

location of the site belongs to another group. This

makes sense: Why should people only make toas for

places in their Gwn country? A group might well

have gone off toa ritual at a site in other people's

country and depict (that place ip a toa. Examples

are shown in Table lL,

TABLE |. Atiribution of toas.

In the case of MaRary there was a discrepancy

in Reuther’s work. In the instances yust cited and

in several others there is mot necessarily internal

discrepanvy in Reuther's work; linguistic and ethino-

graphic information however tells ws that the ater

bution of the site is not accurate. The inconsistency

over MaRaru and the other apparent mistakes in

atuibution can be explained by the fact that Reuther

only gave the Inbal alfiliauon of ihe people wha

were the source of a particular toa and of jhe

relevant infomation, These people may or may nat

have been the traditional owners of the siles in

quesdan.

Tin NAMF MARARUINE

There is Some minor discrepancy in the spelling.

The toa is called Mararuna(ni) in Scherer’s trans-

lation of Reuther 1981, XU: 121. Sarhng & Waire

read it.as Mararuni (14), kt appears.as Mararunani

in Reuther 1981, Mills 121, The site is called

Mararuna in Reuther 1981, Vil; 1192,

Reuther explains in the introduction to Volume

XIU that ‘the sulfix <7 is appended to every place-

name which a toa describes. The -nl (respectively

+i) denotes the correlative (i.e, demonstrative)

pronominal adverb to some distant place yonder;

in that direcuian (Lat. eo, iWlic).’

oni, ie -nhi is in fact the allative, ‘direction

towards marker in Diyari (Austin 1980), but is not

normally used with place-names. These have the

sullix -seu instead: the tise Of -Av will) Laas ts

therefore surprising. Phe use of -/ with Wang-

kangurru) (oas 18 ever more surprising: the

Wangkarigurri language simply does tot have a

sullix -vA/ or anything remotely resembling il In

Wanigkanpurro the wlhative case is invariably ex-

pressed by the sutlix -rvAu, Which takes an the form

-riku alter nouns ending in-7, Reuther says that the

ending -2/ 45 appended’, which we cai only interpret

to mean thar Ae appended it to the name ol every

toa, revardless of what source il came from, Because

he was dealing with an ethnological vollection, he

consciously impesed a uoifoemiry which he hinsell

(bevause ol his mention of -r/) realised did uot

vorrespond to (he original sources. This 1s our of

keeping with his normal attention fo detail, but the

collection Of roas was something special,

toa Group to Whom toa

16 areribured

Dakungarangarani Wanekangurru

Katarungkangamani Wangkangurru

Dakuworduni Wangkangurru

Warukatiwalpini Diyari

Neapangandrini Diyati

Group to Whom the

site belonged

Group to Whom site is

attributed in Yol. VEL

Wangkangurru, Nganrani Ngamani

— Ngamani

Wangkangurru Neamani

Diyari Wangkangurru Wangkangurru

Diyari Pirlatapa

JUST ONE TOA 67

-nqa is the proper noun marking suffix -nha which

is wide-spread in the Lake Eyre Basin and beyond.

It was used in Wangkangurru optionally in the

absolutive case of proper nouns, and particularly

with place-names when they were quoted or referred

to for the first time in a conversation. -7ha is thus

a case suffix in itself and can never be used with

any other case marker following it. Therefore

Mararuna is the correct way of naming the site at

Mararu (MaRaru), Mararuni is Reuther’s artificial

way of referring to the toa. This is unacceptable for

Wangkangurru, as he himself realised. Mararunani

is doubly wrong as it not only contains the unaccep-

table -ni but adds it after the -va which can by its

nature never be followed by another suffix. These

variants arose simply from the need felt by Reuther

to ‘append’ the suffix -ni to the name of all toas.

As regards the explanation of the name, the

derivation given by Howitt & Siebert quoted

above is completely in keeping with Wangkangurru

grammar, maRa means ‘hand’ and -rw is the instru-

mental marker.

Reuther’s derivation of the supposedly Wang-

kamadla place-name (1981, VII: 1195) from mara

‘hand’; runa ‘the back, the reverse side’ must be

based on a misunderstanding as there is no word

‘run@ in any of the languages of the area, and in

any case r- is not found as an initial consonant in

any of the languages of the Lake Eyre Basin.

The explanation given for the name of the toa

at X: 121 is quite different: mara — ‘hand’ -ru

derived from nguru=‘strong, immovable firm etc,’

and -na=‘to, towards’, Reuther knew a great deal

about Wangkangurru as Is indicated by his grammar

in Volume IV, but he had difficulties — just as I

did for quite some time — in hearing the differences

between the fhree different r- sounds in the

language. The word for ‘strong’ as in the language

name Wangkangurru is mgurru, with a trilled r-

sound normally transcribed as -rr-, but the second

r- sound of MaRaru was usually pronounced as a

flap, transcribed as -r-, In any case, abbreviations

of the kind nguru > ru are alien to Wangkangurru.

Work on the Wangkangurru language carried out

over the last twenty years leaves me with no doubt

that Howitt & Siebert have given the correct

derivation of the place-name. Both of Reuther’s

derivations of the name are not grievous errors, but

simply brave attempts that misfired. After all

MaRaru, containing as it does an instrumental case-

suffix, was a most unusual type of name.

Mick McLean /rinjili often maintained that many

place-names were simply names, and did not need

to be explained. ‘Why shouldn’t we have just names

for places, the same as whitefellows?’ This applied

particularly also to personal names many of which

were derived from songs and did not have an

explanation in terms of everyday language. They did

not have a ‘meaning’ in the ordinary sense of the

word, though they could evoke mythological con-

cepts. Naturally Mick McLean knew that MaRaru

meant ‘with a hand’, but he preferred to think of

it as a name, the name of the place that meant most

to him in the whole of his country, apart possibly

from his birthplace, the native well at Pirlakaya.

WHY NOT ‘MARARUNI?

One of the most puzzling questions is why there

are toas for some places and not for others. There

does not appear to be a ready answer. It is tempting

to assume that it was a matter of accident and that

it all depended on which toas happened to be

around at the time the missionaries became in-

terested. This is no doubt part of the answer, but

certainly not all, there were reasons behind the

accident.

As we have noted above, the toa ‘Mararuni’ refers

to a major ritual site where there is no permanent

water: the main camp-sites for Wangkangurru

people in dry weather were the mikiri, the native

wells. Different local groups moved between

different sets of wells.

At least twenty-one mikiri wells are known to

have existed. Eighteen of these appear among the

place-names of Volume VII, though in most cases

Reuther was not aware of the fact that they were

wells. Because these mikiri were such a vitally

important resource for Wangkangurru people, it is

not surprising that they were also important sites

from the point of view of the Ancestors. They are

all not just camp-sites, but also major mythological

sites (Hercus 1986). Some of them were naturally

more important than others to the Wangkangurru

of the Central Simpson Desert. There is however

one that they never spoke of, it was evidently not

one of the normal Wangkangurru camping sites,

because it was far away to the east, close to the

border of Yarluyandi country. This was Puramani.

It is known from only one, though very reliable

ethnographic source, a manuscript of N. B. Tindale

(1934). There is said to be a reference in an MS of

the surveyor L. A. Wells, but a check of this work

revealed only a reference to a more westerly well

Yalkiri, not to Puramani (Wells MS). Tindale had

spoken to a part Wangkangurru, part Aranda man

named Nealtja-kintarda or ‘throwing spit’, the

father of an elderly Wangkangurru man still living,

Johnny Reese Njanpika who was born at the

Koonakoo waterhole on Alton Downs about

1901-2. Ngaltja-kintarda gave an account of a route

across the Simpson Desert from Pandie Pandie on

the Diamantina to Dalhousie Springs. Via this route

the ‘Puramanei mikari’ is reached after four and a

half days’ walk from Pandie Pandie. Tindale notes:

68 L. A. HERCUS

‘This place is in Queensland over the border fence

separating Queensland and the Northern Territory

... Itds a soak or one of several timbered by the

surveyors who surveyed the border (Reese)’ (Tindale

1934),

The name in brackets means presumably thal the

information about the surveyors came from one of

the pioneers of the district, ‘Lew’ Louis von Roon

Reese, who owned Minnie Downs and Miranda, and

knew the whole area Well for many years (Litchfield

1983; 155 and Horne & Aiston 1924; 144) The route

described by Nealtja-kiniarda continues from

Puramani to ‘Jalkerie mikari’, which is shown on

maps (Series R 502, 1:250 000, SG $4.5, 653 797),

This would put Puranian? roughly around TS 5045

on the new SG 54,5,

Of the 21 native wells known and the [8 that

Reuther lists among his place-armes there is only

one toa that refers to a native well and that well

is Puramani, Reuther Was obviously thinking of the

landscape of the Cooper when he wrote about

Puramant: ‘lo this creek the wmuramura Kurkalina

once cleaned mud out of a hole with his hands’

(1981, X11; 63)

There is no creek, only a milkiri. I seems

surprising that the well that nobody mentioned and

no one showed any interest jo should be precisely

the one that merits a toa. Tindale’s notes give us

a clue: Puramani was the first well on Nealtja-

Aintarda’s route, it was the well closest to Pandie

Pandie and therefore the easiest of aooess for any

homesick Wangkangurru at Killalpaninna who

wanted to camp by a mikiri again,

There are a lot of Wangkanguita foas in

Reuther’s list, but practically all refer to sites that

belong to the Wangkatjaka group of Wangkan-

gurru, sites along the lower Diamantina and the

Kallakoopah, and not sites in the real desert. Wang-

kangurru people were realists: when presumably ini

1905 or thereabouts ihe missionaries at Killal-

paninna expressed an interest in toas, they produced

toas that suited the situation of thar fire. Wang-

kangutru people were homesick for their own

country of the high sandhills and for the mtikiri:

we know that some of them, presumably those that

were then living at Dalhousie, went back after 1900

to the westernmost mikiri at Murraburt, we know

that from the vast amount of rabbit bones we found

at that m/kiri (Herous & Clark 1986), They could

well have gone on similar camp-outs to the castern-

most of the wells Purarani, or at least think of such

a trip sufficiently realistically to make a toa, They

did not envisage returning to live at their main wells

in the central Simpson Desert and in fact they never

returned to live there again, This is corroborated

by the absence of rabbit bones at those wells. It is

quite likely however that they could have planned

or even carried out an initiation ceremony at their

main site at MaRaru. They might have called or

thought of calling at the Beelpa well en route, but

we do not know thig.as a toa only gives an indica-

lion of a destination, not a roule. Whal we do know

is that of all the central Simpson Desert sites only

MaRaru has a toa, and of all the wells only

Puramani the easternmost one has a toa, ‘The

distribution of the Simpson Desert toas of the

ethnological collection therefore does no/ reflect the

living and travelling patterns of ancient times but

clearly points to the situation thal existed towards

the end of the first decade of this century.

ENDNOTES

tL. Muramura ts the Diyarl ward for an Ancestyal Being.

2, In this paper a practical orthography has been used

for Wangkangurrus plosive consonants other thon the

retroflex plosive have been written as unvoiced (k, p (A,

t), but prestopped consonants have been written with

voiced plosives as this corresponds most closely to the

pronunciation, hence bm, da, dnh, dnj, dl, lh.

Retroflexes have been written as rconsonant, ie

rl is revrallex /

rn is telroflex n

ed is retroflex 5

Interdentals have been written as consonant +A, hence WA

th, Ih.

Palatals have been written as consonanl(-+j, hence Lj, nj, ti,

rg has been used for velar q.

The three r-sounds have been transcribed ay follows:

r=the alveolar flap

rrethe trilled r

R=retroflex p

3_ “Lis L. Hereus, 'M‘ is M. MeLean.

4. The distinctlon betWeen Wadni ‘ceremony’ and u/arake

‘History’ Is onc af degree of traditional importance: wadni

was a generat ter fora ceremony, alarake ceferred to

a ntan’s parrllineal rinual wadition,

REFERENCES

AUSTIN, P. 1980. "A Gramnutrar of Diyuri, Cambridye

University Press, Cambridge,

HERCUS, L. A. 1980, How we danced the Mudlunpa

Aboriginal History 4: 5-31.

HERCUS, L. A, 1986, Leaving the Simpson Desen,

Aboriginal History §: 22-43,

HERCUS, L. A. & CLARKE, P. 1986. Nine Simpson

wells, Avchaeology in Oceania 21: 51-62.

JUST ONE TOA 69

HERCUS, L. A. & SUTTON, P. J. 1985. The assessment

of Aboriginal cultural significance of mound springs

in South Australia. Dept Environment & Planning,

Adelaide.

HILLIER, H. J. Unpublished MS. Drawing of map of

sites recorded by J. G. Reuther, South Australian

Museum, Division of Anthropology Archives.

HORNE, G. A. & AISTON, G. 1924. Savage life in

Central Australia’. MacMillan, London.

HOWITT, A. W. 1904. ‘The Native Tribes of Southeast

Australia’. MacMillan, London,

HOWITT, A. W. & SIEBERT, O. 1904. Legends of the

Dieri and kindred tribes of Central Australia. J. R.

Anthrop. Inst. 34: 100-129.

JONES, P. G. & SUTTON, P. J. 1986. ‘Art and Land:

Aboriginal Sculptures of the Lake Eyre Region’.

South Australian Museum, Adelaide.

LINDSAY, D. Unpublished MS. Journey from Dalhousie

to the Queensland border (in January 1886). Mortlock

Library, Adelaide.

LITCHFIELD, L. ‘Marree and the Tracks Beyond in Black

and White’. The Author, Adelaide.

MORPHY, H. 1977. Schematisation, meaning and

communication in foas. In P. J. Ucko (Ed.). ‘Form in

Indigenous Art’. Aust. Inst. Abor. Studies, Canberra.

Pp. 77-89.

REUTHER, J. G. 1981. ‘The Diari’. Volumes 1-13.

Translated by P. A. Scherer. Vol. 5 trans. T. Schwarzchild

& L. A. Hercus, L. A. Hercus & J. G. Breen (Eds). AIAS

Microfiche No. 2. Aust. Inst. Abor. Studies, Canberra.

STIRLING, E. & WAITE, E. R. 1919. Descriptions of

toas. Rec. S. Aust, Mus. 1: 105-155.

TINDALE, N. B. 1934. Journal of anthropological

expedition to the Diamantina, northeast of South

Australia. August 1934, South Australian Museum

Archives (Restricted).

WELLS, L. A. Unpublished MS. Diary of the Northern

Territory and Queensland border expedition, 1883-6.

Mortlock Library, Adelaide.

SOUTH AUSTRALIAN ANTHROPOLOGICAL HISTORY : THE BOARD

FOR ANTHROPOLOGICAL RESEARCH AND ITS EARLY EXPEDITIONS

BY P. G. JONES

Summary

This paper concerns the origins and early expeditions of the University of Adelaide-based Board for

Anthropological Research. The work of the Board is almost unknown today, yet from its foundation

in 1926 the group pioneered the first systematic physical anthropological studies in Australia. The

Board undertook annual expeditions to Central Australia until the Second World War, publishing its

results in more than a hundred scientific papers. Its members recorded detailed physical data from

over 800 Aboriginal people and documented aspects of their lives in some of the earliest

ethnographic sound recordings and films to be made in this country.

SOUTH AUSTRALIAN ANTHROPOLOGICAL HISTORY: THE BOARD FOR

ANTHROPOLOGICAL RESEARCH AND [TS EARLY EXPEDITIONS

P.G. JONES

JONES, POG, 1987. South) Avstraliad anthrapologivnl history: the Loard for Anthropological

Rescarely and its early expeditions. Ree. 8. Aust, Afiy. 202 71-92.

This paper concerns the origins and early expeditions of the University of Adclaide-based Board

for Antiropologival Research. The work of the Board is-almost unknown today, vel fran its

foundadon in 1926 the group pioneered the first systematic physical anthropological studies in

Australia, The Board undertook annual expeditions to Central Australia until the Second World

War, publishing its results in more than a hundred svientitic papers. [is menbers recorded detailed

physical data from aver 800 Aboriginal people and decuinented aspects of their lives in some

of jhe eurtiest ethnographic sound recordings and lms 16 be made iy is counny.!

Poy. Jones, Division of Anthropology, Sourh Australi Museum, Nerih Terrtice, Adelaide, South

Australia 5000, Manuscript received 3 February |Y87,

ANTHROPOLOGY IN SOUTH AUSTRALIA —

HISTORICAL BAC KU ROUNDS

A comprehensive history of anthropology in

Australia hag yet to be written. Mase accounts which

lave appeared (Fl kin 1935, 1938, 1939, 1959, 1961,

1970; MeCall 1982; R. & C. Berndt 1985; Mulvaney

1964), have conventrated on the beginnings of social

anthropology on the eastern seaboard.” Fison and

Howill, Brough Smyth, Curr, Roth, Taplin,

Mathews, Spenver, Radcliffe Brown and Elkin are

some Of the names most offen quoted, OF this group

only Taplin was South Australian-based and his

work has been regarded as a provinetal echo of

Howilt’s rather Lhan an original contnibunon te-an

evolving local tradition (Taplin 1872, 1873, 1874,

IS7R, 1879).

While South Australian ethnographers working

after 1870 undoubtedly received a good deal of their

technique and inspiration fram Howitt and fis

colleagues in Sydney aod Melbourne, the growth

of South Australian anthropology as a distinec loeal

variant had oevurred fram. the first years of

European colonisation. Much of the eredit for this

should go lo South Australia's (hicd Goverhoy, Sir

George Grey, timesell an ethnographer (Grey

I84la, b), In contrast to the informal studies of

Adelaide and Lower Murray Aborigines by George

Frenvh Angas (Angas 1847a, b), William Caw-

tharne (Cawrhorie 1926) and William Wyatt (Wyan

1879), rhe cthnoyraphies prepared in the late [830s

hy the Lutheran missionaries C. G. Trichelmana

(Teichelmann 840, Teichelmann & Schurmann

1840), CW. Schurmunn (Schurmann (844, 1846,

Teichelinann & Schuymann (840) and H, A. BE.

Meyer (1846) were undertaken either in consultation

with Grey ar followed his guidelines lor orthe-

graphy (Vindale J974: 3). Edward Joho Eyre's

detalled aveount af Lower Murray Aborigines also

look account Of Grey's influence (Byre T8458). These

ethnographies were in turn used by Taplin in his

studies of Nearrindjeri society and influenced

Surling’s contribudGon to the Horn Expediuan

report (Stirling 1896).

While (his published oulput of South Austrahan

work helped to promote the emergence of a local

tradition of anthropology, a more significant but

less measurable influence has been understandably

overlooked: the informal discussion and tras.

mission of ideas about ethnography among

Adelaide’s men of science who were among the

immediate precursors of professional anthropalo-

aists, The development of the scientific professions

in South Australia was particularly characterised by

the interplay of linked interests and personalities, '

With its main university, hospital, library, museum,

art gallery, and zoological and botanical gardens

sited in close proximity, Adclaide has produced

several public figures noted for their eclecticism and

involvement in a pange Ol sciénulic interests.

Edward Stirling, parliamentarian and social

reformer, zoologist, medical professor, ethnologist

and museum director, 1s among the best known, His

own variant of the prevailing strain of evolutionary

anthropology was learnt at Cambridge (Fraricis

Darwin was a close student friend) and was applied

most notably during hit time as ethnologist with

the Horn expedition of 1892, it the company of

Baldwin Spencer and Francis Gillen (Stirling 1894).

Anthropological discussion and activity in

Adelaide was centred on the Museum and it was

Sdrling as its Director who set the rone of the South

Australian approach fo this subjeet from the 1880s

wntil the end of the First World War, Strling’s

professional base was in medicine and his primary

ethnographic studies reflected this interest: his study

of the Swanport burials became the lirst substantial

Australian publication in physical anthropology

72 P. G. JONES

(Stirling 1911). Despite the wide opportunity which

he had to develop expertise in social anthropology

(his association with significant amateurs in the

field such as Francis Gillen and Paul Foelsche

preceded Baldwin Spencer’s involvement), Stirling

showed little interest in the prevailing anthropolo-

gical issues of the day. Lang’s Secret of the Totem’

(1905), which aroused such controversy among

Tylor, Spencer, Fraser, Howitt and their followers,

had little impact in Adelaide.

Stirling’s main legacy lay not so much in his

original contributions to anthropological knowledge

and debate as in the stimulus which he gave to

interdisciplinary knowledge focusing on Aboriginal

studies. Using the Museum as a base he involved

other Adelaide medical specialists and practitioners

with interests in Australian Aboriginal racial origins

and physiology. These were men like Professor

R. E. Rennie, Dr William Ramsay Smith [City

Coroner and author of ‘In Southern Seas’ (1924)

and ‘Myths and Legends of the Australian

Aborigines’ (1930)], Professor Archibald Watson,

Dr A. A. Lendon, Dr W. L. Cleland (father of

J. B. Cleland; see Cleland, W. L, 1898, 19004), and

later Dr Robert Pulleine, Professor Frederick Wood

Jones and Dr Thomas Draper Campbell. All shared

an interest in the racial origins, physiology and

behaviour of the Aborigines and most contributed

significantly to the Museum collections.

After Stirling’s death in 1919 his role as the focus

for Adelaide anthropology was assumed by Frederic

Wood Jones who became the Museum’s Curator of

Anthropology in that year. Jones showed more

enthusiasm for field studies of Aborigines than

Stirling and was more systematic in his attempts to

obtain information. Between 1921 and 1925 he

undertook three field trips to remote parts of South

Australia, two in the company of Draper Campbell.

These field expeditions foreshadowed the expedi-

tions of the Board for Anthropological Research

with their cross-disciplinary interests and the first

application of rigorous anthropometric techniques

(Jones & Campbell 1924).

The South Australian Museum itself sponsored

two major field expeditions during this period. Both

the Groote Eylandt expedition of 1921-22 and the

Princess Charlotte Bay expedition of 1926 had

primarily natural science research objectives but

Norman Tindale’s presence on each ensured that

valuable anthropological data were secured (Tindale

1925-1926, 1928; Hale & Tindale 1933).5 The

Museum Director, Edgar Waite, had the foresight

to send Tindale to Melbourne in 1921 to undergo

informal training in anthropological techniques

from Baldwin Spencer at the National Museum of

Victoria.

THE ROCKEFELLER FOUNDATION AND

THE SYDNEY CHAIR OF ANTHROPOLOGY

Both Jones and Campbell published extensively

and participated energetically in the international

scientific community, Together with J. B. Cleland,

they were responsible for the revitalization of South

Australian anthropology in the early twenties,

leading to the formation in 1926 of the first

Anthropological Society in Australia, two years

before the New South Wales Society was founded

in Sydney. In addition, both the Transactions of the

Royal Society of South Australia and the Records

of the South Australian Museum began to include

significant ethnographic material at this time. This

activity, together with the prestige associated with

Stirling’s work, helped to make Adelaide a serious

contender for the first Australian university Chair

of Anthropology in 1926.

The Chair was established primarily as a result

of initiatives from the American Rockefeller

Foundation, as part of its world-wide effort to

strengthen the scientific base of the social sciences.

A thorough examination of this policy, its intent

and its effects as they related to Britain is contained

in Fisher (1980). The impact of the Rockefeller

Foundation on Australian anthropology is outlined

by Elkin (Elkin 1938, 1939, 1970) and is further

discussed by Mulvaney in a forthcoming paper

(Mulvaney in press). Contributions to the costs of

the Chair came from the Federal government and

the six Australian State governments according to

their means, but the Foundation supplied the bulk

of the funds required: L30,000. over the five-year

period 1926-1931 followed by the same amount for

1932-1935 and by L15,000 for the 1936-38 period.

While it is quite evident that Sydney was the

favoured location both within and outside

Australia, Adelaide’s claims as a separate centre for

anthropological research were considered seriously

by the Anthropological Committee of the Rocke-

feller Foundation to the extent that the city was

included in the itinerary of the visiting Rockefeller

representatives in December 1925.

It is easy to overstate the significance of personal

ties in the emerging history of Australian anthro-

pology, but there is little doubt that Wood Jones’

presence in Adelaide gave that city an apparent

advantage. This occurred because the Rockefeller

Foundation’s official responsible for organising the

Australian grant was himself a former colleague of

Wood Jones. He was the Australian-born anatomist

Grafton Elliot Smith with whom Wood Jones had

worked in Cairo during 1907-8 on the

archaeological survey of Nubia prior to the opening

of the Aswan Dam. His contribution to that survey

had won Elliot Smith’s esteem.®

Offsetting this apparent advantage however, was

the fact that one of the most influential anthro-

SOLITEL AUSTRALIAN ANTHROPOLGKHCAL HISTORY y

pologists in che world at thal Gime, Bronislaw

Malinowski (the evangelist for the Functionalist

school and the chief recipient of Rockefeller

anthropology money through the London School

of Economies}, was married to Elsie Masson,

daughter of Sydney-based Davicl Masson, Masson

was a founding member of the Australian National

Research Council which was to administer the

Rockefeller grant and he played a large part in the

establishment of the Sydney Chair, It is tantalising

io reflect on tbe different complexion which

Australian anthropology may have had if

Malinowski had married Edward Stirling's daughter

Nina as he had mtended to do i 1914,

Wood Jones, Cleland and Campbell all

apparently believed that Adelaide had a very good

chance of securing the first Anthropology Chair in

Australka. This was not only because of the current

Adelaide work in physical anthropology, but

because of the city’s historic link with Central

Australia and the Northern Territory — the obvious

focus for future fieldwork. Moreover, their own

experienices among Aboriginal communities had

convinced the three men that urgent field work was

required and that this was best conducted from

Adelaide, They felt strongly that Sydney's geo-

yraphical advantage lay with the Pacific, not with

Central Australia:

South Australia has been the main entire of the

acquisition of kuowledge on Central Australia, , , and

it seems adyisable (al Adelaide should continie 66 Tatd

this leadiiz Pasition, just as Sydney is the recognised

centre for the Pacific islands etc?

After visiting Sydney Ute twa Rocketeller repre-

sentsives — Joho Einbree (a Rockefeller Pounda-

tion Director) and Clark Wissler (American

Museum of Natural History anthropologist) —

came to Adelaide to check on the work being done,

Ky the time of this visit in Decentber 1925 TI is

dpparent that che decision had already been taken

to establish the Anthrepology Chair in Syditey.

Nevertheless, Cleland remained convinced that

Adelvide’s work could continue Independently of

Sydney with direct funding trom the Rockefeller

Foundation:

If ivis decided (o make the Adelaide Unwversicy a base

considerable kudos will necessarily allach lo (he

Uypuversity as a resole, great advances will be made in

Ue yrudy of cle aboriginal and considerable sums of

money will be spent (Grougl Adelaide Every effort

should be male to show the advantages offered by this

University"

Cleland went fo great lengths to ensure thac Embree

and Wissler were given every opporiunuy to

appreciate Adelaide’s resources and advantages. A

special committee was established by the Adelaide

University Vice-Chancellor to plan for the visit,

comprising, Cleland, Campbell, Wood Jones,

Professor Brailsford Robertson (a son-in-law of

Edward Stirling), Pulleine, Edgar Waite (Director

of the Museum), Professor Kerr Grant, Professor

Harold Davies, and Professor R, W, Chapman.

This cormmtittee prepared a whirlwind itinerary

commencing immediately aller Wissler and

Embree’s arrival in Adelaide on Sunday, 22

November 1925. In the morning the party visited

archaeolopical camp-sites near Noarlinga and after

a picnic lunch drove through (he Adelaide Hills to

visit Edward Srirling’s widow at Mt Lofty, There

the visitors inspected Sarling's anthropological

library and his phietograph coflection, The next

morning they were shown fiman biological

material in the University Anatomy Museum,

followed by a reception at the South Australian

Museum and a tour of the collectians there. Aftet

a tour of the Medical School the group visited three

Aboriginal inmates of the Parkside Lunatic Asyluni

before taking afternoon tea at Stirling’s old family

home, Urrbrae, In the evening a formal dinner for

the Visitors was hosted by the University Viee-

Chancellor and on Tuesday niorning the party set

off by rail for the twenty-four hour trip to Wilgena

siding, near Tarconla (see Fig. 1).

This trip was later listed as the Board's lirst

expedition.” At a waterhole a few kilometres from

the railway line the party mel and observed a group

of about eighty Aborigines who bad recently come

in From the north, attracted by the radon depor

established at Wilgena. During Wednesday the purty

photographed the Aborigines, carried out blood

grouping lests on 56 Abongimes and observed day

and evening ceremonies. On the Thursday they

visited the camp again and then drove sixty miles

around the station to observe the type of country

in which che Aborigines lived. The party returned

to Adelaide on the Friday evening,

Following this Rockefeller visi) Cleland wrote to

Wood Sones (who was visiing England at this tine)

urging fim to return via America and the

Rockeleller headquarters In Washington. He

believed that the Foufidariof could be swayed in

favour of directly supporting the Adelaide work.

Cleland wrote:

The visit of Dr Clark Wissler and Mr Enibree has just

ended with an eminently successful result as far as we

are concerned, Ther views heeame completely aluered

gtier their arrivalin Adelaide. Talking to Embree soon

afice he arrived rhe empression was clear (al (hey

Thouwht (bal rhe Rocketeller support should be exercised

through the Chair of Anthropology in Sydney, Before

they left they actmitted (hae their views had been

profoundly modified and that they thought Adelaide

was the most suiadle centre for the suudy of [re

aboriginal, (hough in Sydney rhe Chao there might

occupy itself with the Pao fie problems |

74 P. G. JONES

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h | = 1

uff } |

Laverton | ‘ i

| pMarree

30° | | 430°

| '

Kalgoorlie 9 AON sk, H

a Port Augusta

_—E— | |

\ KILOMETRES Adelaide .2

t5 335

LEGEND

oO. Base camps

.Railway routes

~ Road routes

120° T2 by 130° 150 140°

FIGURE 1. Map showing the early expeditions of the Board for Anthropological Research.

Wilgena, 1925 H Mt Liebig, 1932

B Wilgena, Ooldea, 1926 I Mann Range, Ernabella, 1933

C Macumba, Alice Springs, 1927 J Diamantina, 1934

D. Koonibba, 1928 K Warburton Range, 1935

E Hermannsburg, 1929 L. Granites, 1936

F MacDonald Downs, 1930 M Nepabunna, 1937

G 9]

Cockatoo Creek, 1931 Ooldea, 1939

THE ESTABLISHMENT OF THE BOARD

Moreover, the Wilgena expedition had shown the

Rockefeller representatives how ready the Adelaide Buoyed by apparent success, Cleland was keen

important data, As Cleland expressed it: into a concerted programme of anthropological

research funded by the Rockefeller Foundation. As

Within 24 hours of leaving Adelaide we were in the he wrote to the University of Adelaide Vice-

midst of over 70, probably nearly 90, aboriginals, who, | Chancellor:

Clark Wissler felt sure, had merely the veneer of

civilization, and who were behaving essentially as the {t remains now to follow up this big advantage, and

wild natives behave .. .!! Dr Clark Wissler and Mr Embree are very desirous that

SOUTH AUSTRALIAN ANTEIROPOLOGICAL HISTORY is

Prafessor Wood Jones should return to Adelaide via

America and discuss fore fully the questions at issue.

lr seems to me important that The work of your

commurtce should nol cease at (his juncture, but (hal

they should continve preparing plans so.as loact, when,

as is anticipated, the Roekeleller Foundation will

approach the University of Adelaide ,. 17

Cleland had already contacted members. of this

committee and other interested individuals i order

(o construct a tesearch programme, He was

prepared (6 cast the net widely to gain support

within the University, Among the written replies

came an unidentitied response fron the Department

of Physics, reading in paris

. ide continually (pressed tipon me as ateacher

und exuniner in Physics that a very large propertion

of the wndergraduales of our own race and particularly

of those of (he female sex, are almost entirely devoid

of the power of thinking in abstract or general keris,

li would perhaps be of imerest lo determine whether

any aborigines possuys (his faculty , 7

Cher responses Were more realistic, emphasising

the need lor priniary research im areas such ws

Aboriginal song and music (Harold Davies ot the

Elder Conservatorium) and physical anthropology

(Campbell and Wood Jones), The news came in mid

1926 thal the Rockefeller Foundation was prepared

to Support one research centre in Australia only, and

that this was to be in Sydney, funded through the

Australian National Research Council (ANRC), As

Embree wrote:

Our understanding tas been |hal probably a special

commiltee would be appointed Of Which possibly che

new professor of anthrepolagy at Sydocy would he

chairman, and thar (his comutcee wall fram lime ta

firme determine tow funds for pescarel will be expended,

Responsibility for such decisions, we feel should rest

squurely With the National Researgh Council or with

rhe special commiltec, Allhough cefoiie applications

have been Made to us for direct. suppart to research at

Adelaide, we feel even in that-as in other cases [ial

decisions should be made by the group in Ausinalia

rather than by us as an outside body.!4

This attitude to local politics and decision:

making characterised the Rockefeller Foundaron’s

philanthropy in Bricain and Australia and went

some way towards insulating the Foundation against

later charges of ‘cultural imperialism’.

By the lime this decision reached Adelaide, most

of the Cleland commitlee had committed them-

selves to a research programme and were preparing

to begin operations as a Board under the aegis of

the University of Adelaide. With local support and

the encouragement of Embree and Wissler in the

United States, the Adelaide workers were couLident

fhat they could exert sufficient pressure on the

ANRC for adequate funding of their operations.

In addition, Cleland and Wood Jones (later to be

replaced by Pulleine) were appointed as South

Australian representatives on the ANRC Anthro-

pology Commitiee. Cleland evidently hoped thal

this Would counter the ‘undue Melbourne ancl

Sydney influence® which he considered characterised

the ANRC’s operations.

By Noveinber 1926 Wood Jones had resigned

from the University and was due co rake up the

Rockefeller chair of physteal anthropology at the

University of Hawaii, One of his last offivial aets

in Adelaide though, was to recommend successfully

that the University Council establish the Board for

Anthropological Research as a permanent com-

mittee of the University,'” Dr William Ray, Dew

of the Department of Medicine and a member of

the University Council was nominated as the first

Chairman of the new Board for Anthropological

Research, The other ipaugural members were

Professors Wood Jones, Cleland, and Brailsford

Robertson, Drs Campbell and Pulleine and Messrs

—£. W. Holden and ER. Waite. The Jirst meeting

was held on 23 December 1926 with discussion con-

verning procedural matters and planning for the

Board's expediiion to Macumba and Alice Springs

(Expedition C) which was to depart a week later

under Campbell’s leadership.'®

The formation of an effective team of field

workers in this short period was partly due to the

success of (he 1925 Wilgena visit and the resulting

encouragement from the Roekefeller Foundation,

Disappointment at Sydney's success in securing the

Chair and associated funding, and the heightened

rivalry which resulled undoubtedly also played a

parr!’ A major factor though, was the sense al

urgency aboul the work to be done, based on the

assumption that ‘traditional’ Aboriginal lite would

disappear during the following decade,

FIGURE 2. Members of Expedinon H (Mr biebig) photo

graphed en route, From defy Hicks, Moore, Halden,

Eldridge, Stocker, Gray, Cantphell, Tindah, Harvey

Jalnstan, Hale, Fry, Cleland. (SAMA)

16 POG JONES

THE BOARDS FUNDING AND JTS RELATIONS

WITH THE ANRC

The Board was bound to apply annually for

funds to the Anthropology Commitiee of the

Australian National Research Council which itself

received an annual grant from che Rockefeller

Foundation,'® This fact ought not to have

disadvantaged the Board, particularly as the

Rockefeller Foundation had been quite explicit

abour the style of anthropology which it wished to

support:

,.. the Foundation desires Anthrapalagical research

to be carried out in anatomy, archaeology, ethnology,

weography, pathology, physiology, psychology and

sociology, !

Significantly, a study of the Board's expeditions

shows that work was carried our in each of these

areas, sociology included. Nevertheless, the

correspondence between (he Board and the ANRC

reveals a simmering disagreement over the Board’s

distinctive approach to fieldwork. Although Wood

Jones, Cleland, and later Pulleine were represented

on the ANRC's Anthropological Committee, they

were rarely able to attend the Sydney meetings to

argue their case,

Over the fourteen year period from 1926-40,

when the ANRC received £52500 from the

Rockefeller Foundation, the Board was allotted less

than L3500, This proportion seems even less

generous when if is considered that at the first

meeting of the ANRC Committee on Anthra-

pological Research in October 1926, an important

criterlon for awarding grants Was stated as the

urgency of Salvage research amones! vanishing

communities.2!

The Roard’s preowcupation with the decline in the

Aboriginal population was a major element in its

funding 4pplications to the ANRC, and each year

a new Board expedition report carried the same

message — the urgency of further work ‘among our

fast disappearing natives’. The popular image of

a stone-age culture doomed by contact with a

superior civilization was clearly Shared by Board

members, The 19205 and 1930s saw the continuing

rapid decline of the Aborigital population and

Campbell went so far as () construct an equation

for it;

..- their disappearance fs at the rate of §0% per decade

of full contact with Kuropeans, In ten years time [ffom

1938} there Will be few or no, free living matives, and

all will be altered by contact with our culiuine Free Tiving

nalives may possess 80 childfen per 100 adults; in (he

zone of even spasmodic contact this population drops

(0 30 per 100, while in che region ef conemiuing conagl

(he proportion may beas low ay J pep VE ye he Giese

of full bloewds . . 2

There is little doubt that this rate of decline was

aecurate for the period under discussion and (se

Board case lor special funding support was clearly

merited according to the ANRC's own guidelines.

‘The Board became frustrated with even tighter

funcing vontrols after Elkin replaced Radcliffe

Brown as Chaleman of the ANRC Anthropology

Committee in 1931, Elkin carly took little account

of the Rockefeller guidelines for allocating funds,

preferring to ignore most of the physical anthro-

pology cared our im Adelaide. His 1935

Presidential address to ANZAAS — ‘Anthropology

in Australia, past and present’) summarised the

Adelaide work in two lines.~* Before granting the

Board’s funding for 1995. the ANRC demanded a

social anthropulogical report aller Expedition J and

supulared thay copies of revords, films and

photographs be lodged with the ANRC,

For its pan, the Boar! responded quickly to

suggestions that its granc money from the ANRC

was not being well spent, although it properly

refrained from comment in July 1934 (after

receiving only a qnarter of the fanding requestest

for Expedition J) on fearing that the ANRC

treasurer had misappropriated all of (he Council’s

funds and destroyed the cash books, before com-

mitting suicide”? In its correspondence with the

ANRC, the Board emphasised that its work was

undertaken voluntarily and that expeditions

sometimes invalved considerable personal expense

for the members, Herbert Hale (Director of the

South Australian Miseurh) made the additional

point that by 1936:

over [ty pulllications live already been produced

trom the fieldwork , . - Comparison may be justly

made, fac example, with the work carried out under

Professor Whitridge Davies, whose expeditions have

cost the ANRO almesé lialf the amount allotted to

Adelaide, whereas . ~~ only three publications have

resulted yo far

One reaction te Lhe ANRC’s parsimony was for the

Hoard to pursue a more direct reladionship with tse

Rockeleller Foundation itself and other American

funding sources, Cleland’s main contact in this

regard was Clark Wissler who had supported the

Adelaide work fom the Outset and suggested in

193] thal the Board might apply directly ro the

Rockefeller Foundation, thus bypassing che

ANRC? Wissler's donation of a motion piciure

camera after lis 1925 visit had made possible the

Roard’s unique series of ethnographic film. He alsa

supported Cleland’s scheme for a buffer zone

around the central Reserves Which might becare

(in Wissler’s words) “an important step in the

establishment of whal might be lermed an elhne-

graphical Inboratary?

Apart fram the blood grouping studies, Wisslor

Wah espevlally imeresred in the potential for studies

SOUTEL AUSTRALIAN ANTHROPOLOGICAL HISTORY W

of Aboriginal sexuality and family life, then largely

ignored in anthropological work underiaken in

Australia.2” Clejand incorporated these studies

within the Board’s work, and with special funding

arranged by Wissler fram Yale University, compiled

survey material from a number of personal contacts

across the country, These included George Aiston,

Daisy Bales, Theodor Strchlow, Ursula MeConnel

and Reverend John Love as well as lesser known

individuals.

The Adelaide work was also supported locally;

Sir Joseph Verco, Sir George Murray and Sir

Edward Holden (a founding Board member and

Managing Director of Helden’s Motor Body

Works) each coniributed substantial amounts, They

followed an Adelaide tradition of philanthropy

toward anthropology which had begun at the turn

of the century with Sir Robert Barr Smith’s support

of Edward Stirling's work, As well, the Museum Was

able to [it out most of the expeditions and provided

the record cards and other stationery. Al! of the

Hoard members had keys to the Musewm and came

and went as staff members, with access. to the

collections and to secretarial assistance,

Cleland himself was always alert for ways to

minimise costs of the Board expeditions. Apart

from obtalning railway concessions for the graup,

he succeeded in arranging donations of soaps and

disinfectants, quantities of reject dned fruit, and

even cases of wine which were ‘very much

appreciated, as we were often fatigued by the day's

work, Which was frequently strequous'“* A small!

bul reliable source of Board income was derived

from newspaper articles written about the expe-

ditions by Board members, usually Cleland and

Tindale.

THE Boakos Work — Its Etuns

From the first, the Board consisted pre-

dominantly of medical men, drawn mainly from the

Anatomy and Pathology Departments of the

University of Adelaide's Medical School. This

composition reflected a bias which had been

operating In Adelaide anthropological circles since

Stirling’s appointment as honorary Curator of

Ethnology al the Museurn la 1888, while he lectured

at the same Unte in the Medical Schaol. However

there is no doubt that the inaugural members of

1926 saw the Board as much more than an oppor-

tunity for armchair anthropology and recreational

fieldwork. The scale and intensity of their fieldwork

and publishing programme confirms this. And

while the Board was not regarded by Sydney and

Melbourne anthropologists as contributing satis-

factory to the emerging discipline of social

anthropology, itis clear that ils members were of

the international cutting edge of physical

anthropology and were sustamed and rewarded by

their dialogue with overseas specialists,

Siynificantly, the pattern for the Board's future

work had already been set by Wood Jones ancd

Campbell on their expeditions tram 921 onwards,

and particularly by the Wilgena expedition of 1925

{Expeditian A] and Campbell's Wilgena and

Ooldea trip of May 1926 [Expedition A], The

methods employed on these expeditions were

already producing important results, particularly iy

the area of blood-growping studies — a special

research interest of Cleland, By 1926 tt was

becoming elear that the Australian Aborigine was

disunet from most other populations in lacking

early expeditions confirmed thls, The Board's

conclusion, that the Aborigines were a ‘pure race’

fast disappearing in the face of Earopean culture,

Teinforced popular opinion in Australia and

overseas,

The written responses by Univeralty of Adelaide

academics to Cleland’s 1925 request for ‘lines of

investigation’ (see above; p. 75) cast light on

significant aspects of the Board’s work. The issues

and research questions which initially oecupied

Board members had little to do with Investigating

the social relationships, recent history or current

views and beliefs of Aboriginal people. In rejecting

ot ignoring the sophistication af post-Malinowskian

Hieldwork Board members practised instead whar

tas been termed the ‘natural history approach’ —

recording with meticulous detail ‘the more readily

observable aspects of culture and biology’ (Sutton

7986; 50).2° Nor was it until Tindale. Fry and

Strehlaw began to exert an influence on the Board's

activities that serious efforts were made lo

appreciate the complexity of Aboriginal social

gtru@ture and belief systems, Cleland’s own pro-

posed ‘lines of investigation’ contained a minor

exception in his final suggestion:

13, [The] Collection of [kinship] terme and their

analysis and constderation,+!

Generally, most af the responses indicated thar

Aborigines were perceived as the passive objects of

scientlic enquiry, providing a plethora of new data

for diverse fields of research. Harald Davies’ mterest

in ascertaining Aboriginal knowledge of the penta-

tonic scale in Aboriginal sme, R, W. Chapman's

(Department of Engineering) enquiry into whether

Aborigines used the lever, wedge, roller or other

simple machines, Campbell's investigations of

hahits and cusiems In vicinilies where natives have

suffered minimum contamination’ revealed a simllat

outlook, founded {nthe same ethnocentrism which

had characterised clhnography during the previous

century, The process of measuring and recording

™ Pt), PONES

Aboriginal physical and sovtal characteristics

oceurred within the overarehing (rarmework of

evolutionary theory afid shiduld be seen against ihe

conlemporary backvround of debate over the

heredity versus environment issue. Wood Joues

himsell was an uetive contributor co this debate and

as a self-protesssed Lamarekitin evolutionist stressed

the heed to understand the total environment within

which Aborigines lived?

The Board produced tro explicit published stare-

Went of ts aims and Objectives curing its curly

years; its credo is best discerned from individual

reports and correspondence, Campbell pave it

cogenr expression ina 1931 letter to the Honorary

Secretary of the ANRC:

The trend whieh the University is aiming al in Uhese

Midies is not merely o compilation of sratisites for

nssessini Che Ansrralian natives! compararive physics!

slilus. buc rather an allack un the cere practical

problem of haw he adaprs himsell to his cavinonment

and again in 19532;

The alm few is fo inelude as Wuell, a6 is fessonably

possible, daw which will enlighten us ner only on the

nalive himself bul his surroundings and tis renciiows

to his hiolegieal, physingraphical and mercormlosical

environmen 3

There fs strong circumstantial evidence to sugmest

that ius statemenr of aims was inspired by Wf no

derived directly from, the contact which the

Adelaide workers had With heir Ametican bene

factors, Clark Wissler in particular, Wissler, a pupil

of Franz Boas, had developed his own model of

culture/evalogivcal areas for North America (Wissler

|926) based on similar principles, His colleague,

Alfred Kroeber, developed this theme further th hes

classic 1939 study “Cultural and natural areas of

North America’ proposiug hae

... Ho eulture 16 Whally intclligible without referenee

1p the noneuliural or so-called environnmrenial taenrs

with which it is in relation and which eonditian it."

‘The Board's activities and publications stressed this

conjunction between Aborigines aad their enviran-

ment and so highlighted a major poi of difference

between Sydney and Adeluide anthiropaloey, The

social anthropology promoted by Radcliffe Brown

and tater by Bikin was concerbed wilh (he internal

functioning of small-scale Aborjvinal (and Pacific)

societies, focusing primarily on Social relations and

focal provesses of acculturation, This approach left

litle room for analysing or even taking account of

broad evalutionary changes, lan term adaptations

to the environment, or diffusion of culbure frais

throughout Australia by Aborigines. — sues whieh

preoveupied the Adelaide workers, The ANRC's

refusal to fund an investigation by Cleland and

Stanton Hicks into the pharmacological properties

of the plants Nivenana and Duboisia in 1932

Ulustrates this basic diflerence in outlook, The

ANRC regarded such work as beyond the proper

ambit of anthropological investigation, bringing a

firm response [rom Cleland, Regional bias against

Adelaide must have beet) apparent when, in the

following year, the ANRC granted funds without

dentur to.a Melbourne researcher for an investi

eulion of the biochemical characters of Aboriginal

foods.*9

Despite the (uct that most Board members made

substantial contributions in their own Universicy

fields, the Board's anthropological work reflected

a wide range of shared interests and knowledge.

Cleland is probably the ourstunding example of tris

type of worker, No dilettante, his significant

publications in the fields of pathology, ornithology,

botany, aid Aboriginal studies represented a

remarkable understanding of rhe Australian natural

and sacial environment. It is likely that Cleland’s

own ecleecticisnt inspired Board members (6 tlevelap

new interests and skills, Other Adelaide scientists

were also Witlwential. Norman Tindale recalls haw

Charles. Fenner:

eheourawed all researghers to look at things Trem

a feographer’s point of view. ~~ he and Girentell Price,

who was another geographer... hada great influcice

here if

ft was probably the example of these two men which

led Cleland and Professor Harvey Johnston to meti-

eously correlate geographical and botanical

features during the expeditions, Tindale recalls

travelling (hrough desert country on-several trips.

making botanical and topoxraphical observations

lor every inde ol the journey [rom a railway varriaze

or the Board's vehicle?”

Other Board members displayed the same enthu-

siasm Cur new fields of Knowledge, Tindale, who

had already made the (armen from entomology

social anitiropoloey and embarked on his major

work of mapping the distribution of Aboriginal

tribal woups. His much-eritivised 1940 study of the

social and demoyraphic issues surrounding the

‘halFeaste problemi was nevertheless the first survey

ofits kind, H, K, Pry — a Rhodes Scholar and the

first Oxterd-trained Australlan anchropolugist

martied (his (raming with his chosen profession of

psychology fo produce an original schema for

analysing kinship relationships in Aboriginal

societivs, Thomas Draper Campbell, later che

Foundation Professar of rhe Adelaide School of

Dontisiry, became widely known for his studies of

stane tool typologies us well as his work on

Aboriginal dentition and diet,

SOUTH AUSTRALIAN ANTHROPOLOGICAL TISTORY 4

Cleland particularly, and the Board by extension,

may be criticised for the stress which they laid on

policies considered unpopular toduy — segregation

and sssimilation, Cleland’s wrerese anc partici-

panon in the amalgam of issues kriown collectively

al (he Lime as ‘the native question’ dated from bis

carly interest in Aborivinal health and disease, His

own experience of the rapid decline in ‘Till-bload"

population led hith to support the total assunilation

Of parl-Aboriginal people into the European popu-

lation, On the other hand, he urged the extension

af whe Central Ansiralian reserves to shield the

romuinine ‘oust’ Aboriviges trom European initn-

enee, This later scheme becam an dee fixe during

the 19305 and Cleiaid even attempted to have the

University of Adelaide Council purchase a lease on

land aburting one of the reserves us a ‘butler zone’.

The University's iiwalventent would, according to

Cleland, be:

. in (he imeresis of the native Alford better

opporrunities for he study of them . .— and [would]

unsure Cher protection for many senentions to Lome

Despite Wissler’s support for this notion of an

‘elhnographical laboratory’ the Couneil] considered

that it could not ‘appropriately he considered

amongst the activities of the University’.

This utopian scheme was in direct contrast on the

Board's usual pragmatic approach to Aboriginal

issues, and to health problems in parlicular. Their

involvement with medical issues and problems on

expeditions was routine but led to some outstanding

successes. The Board’s fortuitous arrival at

Hermannsburg in August 1929 ar the eight of an

outbreak of scurvy, and their prompt aslion in

eradicating the illness, carnt 1he lasting grativude

of both Aborigines and missionaries, || also led to

the Board’s support of (he public campaign to have

fresh water piped to Hermannsburg and to the

appointment of the first medical officerin Central

Australia with responsibility for Aboriginal

health.2°

Finally, the Board considered thar it had clear

jurisdiction over anthropological work conducted

withii South Australia — and at least & consultative

role regarding Central Australia, This was not only

through its own research, bul through its support

ol dieldworkers Such ay R. & C. Berndt, Cy P.

Muountford, Srrehlow, Love, Daisy Bates, and Olive

Pink. Cleland was particularly supportive of

Strehlow's Central Australian Sicldwork in tis

dealings with the ANRC and he consequently

reserited that body's practice of sending ficldworkers

io South Australia without consulmng the Board.

Matters came to a head in 1943, when Cleland wrote

to Elkin, saying:

Dr Campbell and myself would recommend strongly

thal the Board for Anthropolugical Researeh ot the

University af Adelaide should be recognised officially

by your Commilice on Anthropology and consulted om

all marters affecting anthropological research in Seuth

Australias!

The Sydney and Melbourne versus Adelaide rivalry,

Which had affeeted the course of Australian anthro-

pology since Slirling’s time, had still to pur its

COLIFSe,

Tht Boseps Work — Its Monus OPERANDT

The modus operandi of (he Board’s fieldwork —

the ‘teamwork’ approach — provided another port

al difference with the Sydney anthropologisis, Thrs

method jnvolved several researchers with clearly

defined specialties Working intensively among an

Aboriginal group for hwo Lo three weeks, The team

work approach seems to have been pushed hardes|

by Wood Jones who saw It as the optimum method.

He may have heen influenced by the immense pro-

ductivity and ploncering methods of the multi

disviplinary expedition led by Altfed Cort Haddon

ro ‘Torres Strait im 1898,

This approach ro anthropological fieldwork was

heavily resisted by the ANRC. Ir stressed the need

for long-term ‘participant observation’ following the

Maliniowskian model, and regarded (his methad as

a prerequisile far gathering social anthropological

data of any value. The Council attempted to in-

fluence the Board on several occasians To conduec

Yonger field trips with a smaller personnel’.

Campbell's response to this suggestion (and to the

insinuation tbat funding would consequently he

easier to obtain) Was unequivocal:

.) iP the partivular programme of work being carried

oul here were nolesrred ul along tre lines adopted,

itis doubtful whether this type of research, which bs

urgently qeeded, would be curried oul at all... The

leam ol workers consists of men wha, in mast cases,

aré specialised in their Wn particular line of resewreh

This combination uf special maiming ane continuity

of field experience in a particulir line, applied in an

Witensive manner counter balances 1o a very large ewent

whal mietit seen to he the disadvantages of shart

working periods. _'Thelarger tam permits ata large

group of natives being exumined in x fairly short lime,

These lane groups of nafives cunnot be hetd together

for any lengthy period without serious difficulties and

considerable exfiendinwe On carians a2

The only exception to whe early ‘teamwork"

expeditions was tbe first part of Expedition |

(May-July, 1933), in which Tindale wud Hackett

travelled with a group of Pitjantjacjara Aborigines

through tte Musgrave Ranges for two months,

carry equipment and supplies by camel and

80 POG. JONES

having only occasional contact with outside

support, This was a markedly different experience

for both men as for once they were entirely depen-

dent on the Aborigines they had come Lo siudy. As

Tindale comments:

Cecil and | became just kind of hangers-on or parasites

of the Abongines, just waydering along, taking

photographs and asking questions, revarding . . 43

The expeditions required detailed planning and

this was usually Canrpbell’s task. Expedition

destinations were discussed at the Board meetings

(held irregularly as circumstances warranted) and

the decision was usually dictated by the available

finances and the accessibility of centres of

Aboriginal population, Personal contacts alsa

played a part — the Chalmers family af MacDonald

Downs Station influeqved the decision for the 1930)

expedition, Strehlow arranged for a remote Pinlupi

group to be present at Mt Lrebe (1933), Lew Reese

assisted the 1934 Diamantina arrangements, anc

Cleland’s cousin, W. L. Cleland, arranged the

cooperation of Maitland Brockman of White Cliffs

Station, north-east of Laverton, for the 1935

Warburton Range expedition, This 1935 trip took

ihe Board to their mose remote destination and

Brockman’s assistance was important in the organi-

sation. He wrote to the Board:

Lam on the olitskirts of settled pastoral country...

& see a number of full blood blacks —. — there are no

crosses, & as they are yet in their naked state they will

be What you are looking Jor .,. land in answer ipo

Cleland’s request for a budget estimate] Cost of feeding

them for 10 days —40 blaeks, Nour meat tea sugar

tobacco @ |/f per td, per day for bucks, |/ — gins

& 6 children... say 40 @ 1/ per day |,

The expeditions were generally organised during the

University of Adelaide’s August vacation which

allowed sufficient time ty the field and lisgually also

meant favourable camping conditions in Central

Australia, Ag the rap shows (Pic. 1), the first part

of each expedition was completed by rail, This was

an expensive component (up to a thind) of expedi-

Hon costs and Campbell and Cleland worked hard

al obtaining rail concessions and reserved carriages

for the proup.**

Once at the railhead, the party transfered to motor

transport, arranged in advance; for the final leg,

Throughout the period the trucks and cars tised on

the expeditions stood the strain of up to eight men,

supplies and heavy medical equipment withoul any

serious hitches, More importantly, on arrival at their

destinations the parties always found the expected

number of Aborigines. As Cleland confided to

Elkin before the Warburtun Range expedition of

1935:

These expeditions are always somewhat of a lotters, as

in spite of the best of plans the natives may not be where

you wani them , . 446

This was more likely to happen towards the end of

an expedition, when the novelty had worn off and

the food supplies brought by the party were getting

low.47 After the Mt Liehig expedition of 1933 (Hi,

Cleland wrote: *. .. it seerns quite impossible to hold

fora longer period than aboul a fortnight any large

congregation of natives. , 4

A regular protocol for the Board’s work was well

established by the time of the 1933 Grnabella

expedition (1) and was documented by Cleland in

his expedition report (1934). Bach Aborigine was

first given a number, and Tindale entered his ar her

name, Approximate age, gencalogical and tofemic

data on a card, noting other relevant sociological

information, Wilh their numbers painted on their

shoulders, the subjects moved on to the physical

anthropologists (Hackett and Gray} who took 33

body measurements and noted features of skin and

eye colour, scarification, pathological lesions, ard

condition of the teeth, Hale then took still phato-

graphs of each Aboriginal subject before passing

them to Cleland and Harvey Johnston for blood:

grouping fests, Nnger-printing and dermatoglyphs,

The pair also obtained names of plants and animals

and related data. Hicks and O'Connor carried out

intensive metabolic tests and cardio-vascular

examinations on a sample of twetity-four Abori-

gines and Hale and Tindale obtained plaster of

paris face and bust casts of six individuals, After

limited success with his Porteus maze and other

psychological and sensory tests, Fry concentrated

instead on obtaining vocabularies, and studying

‘customs, beliefs, games and technology’ as well as

eliciting the kinship system. Apart from the number

of photographs faken by expedition members,

Stocker Look a large amount of 16 mm film which

was later edited to comprise 2575 feet, dealing with

ceremony, sign language, hunting, games, artefact

manufacture, walking and running gaits, and

Jncidents from daily jife.49

The basic procedure remained the same on al! of

the early Board expeditions, although details varied

according to the personnel, The physical measure-

Tents were based mitially on those recommended

by the Geneva International Agreement of [9)2 for

observations on living subjects, and on Hrdlicka’s

work (1920). A full list of the tests carried out ou

Expediton F (MacDonald Downs) is contained Li

Appendix 1.

ABORIGINAL PLRCLPTIONS OF THE BOARD

Initially at least, the speciacle of the universily

Tesearchers arriving by motor lorry with their

SOUTH AUSTRALIAN ANTHROPOLOGICAL HISTORY 81

FIGURE 3, Measuring and weighing Aboriginal people

on Expedition C (Macumba-Alice Springs). (SAMA)

FIGURE 4, Jeffrey discussing photographic poses with

an Aboriginal man on Expedition C (Macumba-Alice

Springs). (SAMA)

outlandish equipment and even stranger behaviour

appears to have been amply sufficient to keep large

numbers of Aborigines diverted for several days.

The pace of the work programme ensured this, if

nothing else.

The question of how Aborigines regarded the

bizarre activities of Board members on these

expeditions merits a study in itself. Unfortunately

little work has been done on eliciting memories of

these expeditions from Aboriginal people. Linda

FIGURE 5. Measuring lung capacity on Expedition C

(Macumba-Alice Springs). (SAMA)

FIGURE 6. Stocker filming Aboriginal men on Expedition

H (Mt Liebig). (SAMA)

Crombie is one exception — she was seven at the

time of the 1934 Diamantina expedition and recalls

refusing to remove her shirt for a still photograph.

The newspaper reporter who accompanied Exped-

ition H (Mt Liebig) made his own enquiries

through an interpreter and was told that:

. .. they could not understand why the white men came

all this way to ask them so many questions, smear white

stuff over them, and stick prickles in their ears . . . The

natives said they did not mind the indignities because

they were good men, although ‘quite silly’ and what was

important, they brought good tucker for the black men

... They think the white man does a lot of things

because he wants to help the black man. They think

Prof. Hicks oxygen tests will help a man with weak wind

to run up hills as easily as a strong man.>!

Certainly, on the first expeditions, Cleland was

apprehensive of the reaction from Aborigines when

conducting blood grouping tests. On the 1927

Macumba-Alice Springs expedition he used an

original strategy:

82 P. G. JONES

We explained to them in pigeon [sic] English that we

wanted to see whether the blackfellow’s blood was more

like the white man’s than that of a Chinaman or an

Afghan, and they all assented by nods to our request

for obtaining samples of blood.*!

Later, on the 1929 Hermannsburg expedition,

Cleland and Johnston:

. . . $0on gained the sobriquet of the butchers’ from

the surrounding aborigines, and our mild form of

operation was designated, in cattle terms, as ‘ear-

marking.’ It soon became the fashion to be ear-marked,

and those who had it not eagerly desired it. As we were

not dealing with half-castes, some of these were bitterly

disappointed at our refusal to bleed them.*?

In their reports and personal reminiscences both

Cleland and Tindale stress this aspect — that far

from being intimidated or having to be bribed or

cajoled into participating, most Aborigines actively

entered into the spirit of the procedure. After the

inevitable shyness of the first day:

... the utmost willingness was always manifested and

any individual accidentally left out temporarily from

some part of the routine would either himself, or by

one of his fellows, call attention to the omission.°3

This certainly surprised some members of the

expeditions, who expected resistance to blood

sampling tests at the least. Cleland remarked several

times on the stoicism displayed by Aborigines while

undergoing face casting and metabolic testing under

extreme conditions. A can of pineapple became the

standard exchange for the gruelling face cast pro-

cedure and other small inducements were given, like

cigarettes and boiled sweets. These were more in the

nature of a reward than a bribe or payment.

Most of the Aboriginal people involved in these

early expeditions had had very little experience of

European technology and machinery. The Board’s

array of motor vehicles, electricity generators, x-ray

equipment, vasometers, cardiometers, gramo-

phones and motion picture cameras must surely

have exceeded the impact of a full-scale circus on

a country town, Tindale probably comes closest to

explaining the Aboriginal view:

. .. ina sense, we entertained them. Our activities were

so strange to them... . I don’t think that the bush ones

in the early days ever realised that we were making

records of them, They had no idea why white men held

boxes up to their eyes when they were talking or asking

questions, or looking at ceremonies. That was their [the

white men’s] inma, their ceremonial way of doing it.*4

This view may have been heightened by the expe-

dition members’ practice of beginning the day’s

routine by playing the Aboriginal song recordings

made by Harold Davies at Koonibba in 1926

(Fig. 7), interspersed with popular songs and some

Japanese gramophone records which Tindale had

acquired from his childhood in that country:

We'd play them first thing in the morning when we were

ready to start work and the first Aborigine would

appear and the rest of the day there would be

Aborigines winding up the machine and putting the

records on and keeping it going. Some of the records

more or less wore down, almost through . . .55

FIGURE 7. Aboriginal men listening to the ‘Radiola’ on

Expedition H (Mt Liebig). (SAMA)

FIGURE 8. Pulleine obtaining crayon drawings on

Expedition I at Ernabella in August 1933. (SAMA)

Despite the brevity of these expeditions, the Abori-

ginal people classified the visitors within their

kinship systems, assigning terms and personal

names to each member of the expedition party. The

coincidence of the number of members on Expe-

dition E (Hermannsburg) with the eight Aranda

subsections provides a striking example of this

social incorporation:

SOUTH AUSTRALIAN ANTHROPOLOGICAL HISTORY

FIGURE 9. Wilkinson obtaining dermatoglyphs on

Expedition I (Ernabella). (SAMA)

One of the natives made this discovery, with the result

that we were immediately allocated in all seriousness

each to one division and accepted as full members of

the tribe. A plenitude of tribal relatives sprang up —

parents, uncles and aunts, brothers and sisters were in

embarrassing profusion, and most cordial relationships

existed, facilitating greatly the enquiries on which we

were engaged.56

CONCLUSION

The last of the ‘teamwork’ expeditions — to

Ooldea in August 1939 — closed an era in

Australian physical anthropology. Later Board

expeditions concentrated more closely on discrete

aspects of Aboriginal life and behaviour and did

not attempt to duplicate the ambitious research

programmes of the early years. Although physical

anthropological studies remained as a basis for

Adelaide anthropology until the University of

Adelaide established its Department of Anthro-

pology in 1974, the central relevance of these

studies, and related issues of racial origins and

characteristics, had greatly lessened in the mean-

time, Discussion and theory about Australian

Aborigines increasingly centred on social and

religious life; without a formal commitment to

research of this kind, Adelaide’s importance as a

centre for anthropology after World War 11 was

steadily overtaken by other Australian capitals.

A later paper will discuss the 1938-39 Australia-

wide expedition mounted by the Harvard and

Adelaide Universities, as well as the Board’s post

war activities, culminating in the establishment of

the Adelaide Chair of Anthropology.

ENDNOTES

Abbreviations:

ANL — Australian National Library.

SAMA — South Australian Museum Archives.

UAA — University of Adelaide Archives.

1. Professor Norman Tindale, Dr Cecil Hackett and

Professor John Mulvaney all gave me valuable assistance

with this paper. I would also like to thank the staff of the

Mitchell Library and the Barr Smith Library Special

Collections for their assistance, and Kathy Bowshall for

drawing the map.

2. Ina paper to be published in 1988 (Mulvaney in press),

Mulvaney goes some way toward correcting this bias by

devoting a section of his discussion to Adelaide

anthropology.

3. See Twidale et al. (1986).

4. Cleland stressed the requirements of physical

anthropological research in his 1899 address to the Royal

Society (Cleland 1899).

5. Hale and Tindale’s 1925 expedition to work among

Aborigines of the Flinders Ranges should also be

mentioned — see Hale & Tindale (1925).

6. Australian Dictionary of Biography 9: 510. See Elkin

& Macintosh (1974) for biographical essays on Elliot Smith

and assessments of his contribution to theories of

evolution and cultural diffusion.

7. Cleland to Gibson 31.7.36 — ANL Ms. 482, Box 32,

Folder 498.

8. Cleland, J. B. 1925 (attributed) ‘Memo re Visit of

Representatives of the Rockefeller Institute, in reference

to the Endowment of Research in the Anthropology of

the Australian Aboriginal’. SAMA, AA 60, Acc 243.

9. The sequence of Board expeditions, their dates and

destinations is provided in Fig. 1 and Appendix 2.

Campbell and Wood Jones’ 1924 expedition to Mt Eba

and Streaky Bay has also been referred to as Expedition

A in the Board’s records, but it clearly did not come within

the Board’s own chronology (Jones & Campbell 1924).

10. Cleland to Wood Jones, 1.12.25, SAMA, AA 60, Acc

243.

11. Ibid.

12. Cleland to Vice-Chancellor, 2.12.25, SAMA, AA 60,

Acc 243,

13. Copy of letter to Cleland dated 19.11.25, SAMA, AA

60, Acc 243.

14. Embree to Masson, 27.5.1926, ANL Ms, 482 Box 61,

Folder 853b. Notice of this decision was sent to Wood

Jones and the University of Adelaide. Details are contained

in Docket 77/26, UAA,

84 P, G, JONES

15. University Council Minutes, 10,12,26, UAA,

16. Expedition B, under the leadership of Campbell, had

visited Wilgena and Ooldea in May 1926. For the Minutes

Ot Board meetings see Board Minute Books, UAA.

17, Philip Jones-Norman Tindale interview, 3.1.85.

18. See Mulvaney (it press) for a description of the

funding relationship between the ANRC and the

Rockefeller Foundation,

19. ANL Ms. 482 Box 61, Folder 8536 and sec Embree

to Masson, 27-5.26 (two letters) — ANL Ms. 482, Box 61,

Folder 85 4¢,

20, ANL Ms, 482, Box 62, Folder 862,

21, Tindale to Keppel, 20.10.38. UAA, Cleland Papers,

572 SR Box 1, Folder |,

22. Elkin 1935: 202, Elkin’s dismissive attitude toward the

Board’s work is evident throughout his other surveys af

Australian anthropology.

23. Elkin to Cleland, 8.6.34, SAMA, AA 60, Ace 247,

24, Hale (o Gibson, 5.5.34, ANL. Ms. 482. Box 32, Falder

498.

25, Wissler to Cleland, 6,2,31, SAMA, AA 60, Ace 244.

American interest in the Adelaide work was enduring, as

Tindale’s success in obtaining backing for the later

Harvard-Adelaide and UCLA-Adelaide expeditions

shows,

26. Cleland to Gibson, 20.6.33, ANL Ms. 482, Bax 32,

Folder 498,

27, Wissler ta Cleland, 1.6.28, SAMA, AA 60, Acc.244:

The point of view in such stidies would be to secure

data-on all the phases of primitive sex life that parallel

those under invesligalion among ourselves , - ,

28. Cleland to Fulton, 4.9.41, writing after Expedition G

(Cockaloo Creek), SAMA, AA 60, Ace 240.

29. See for example, Cleland to Elkin, 9.17.1934, SAMA,

AA 60, Ace 247:

In blood grouping we again gol only A’s and O's, The

(importance of this work in showing that the Australian

native is pure blooded is, | think, great.

30. At the same time, it is worth noting that this positivist

failh in ‘objective’ data was also shared by social

anthropologists af the period, particularly by Radcliffe-

Brown, Urry (1984) discusses these issues. See also Chase

& von Srurmer (1973p.

31, Cleland ‘Lines of investigation’. SAMA, AA 60, Ace

743.

22, Australian Diclionary of Blowraphy ¥: $13, [tis worth

noting that Elliot Smith was alsu a Lamarckian, Both he

and Wood Jones were known for their eccentric belief nal

man bad evolved from the tree-dwelling tarsioid, through

its Lamarckian urge to self-betterment. See Wood Jones

(1916) and Hooton’s playful demolition in Hooton 1938:

63-67,

33, Campbell to Hon, Sec., ANRC, 2. 10.1931; Campbell

to Hon. See, ANRC, 10.2,1932, ANL. Ms, 482, Box 60,

Folder 48a

34, Kroeber (1939; 205).

35, Cleland to Firth, 24,10,1932; Cleland to Elkin,

3}.5.1932, SAMA, AA 60, Ace 247,

36. Philip Jones-Norman Tindale interview, 3.185,

37, See for example Cleland 1936; 114.

38, Memorandum to the Council of the University of

Adelaide, 24.10.32, SAMA, AA 60, Acc 240, See alsa

Cleland to Minister for the Interior, 7.9.36, SAMA, AA

60, Acc 2440.

39 Eardley to Cleland, 12.12.32, SAMA, AA 60, Acc

240.

40, Albrecht wrote in his 1930 annual report:

If it Would not have been for the Doctors of the Adelaide

University Expedition who came here engaged in

Anthropological research work, the majority of our

native community would probably have died out — . -

(SAMA, AA 60, Acc 247).

41. Cleland to Elkin, 30.1.83. SAMA, AA 60, Acc 247.

42, Campbell to Hon, Sec., ANRC, 28.6,32, ANL Ms.

482, Box 60, Folder 848a,

43. Philip Jones-Norman Tindale interview, 3.1.85.

Hackett also recalls how the experience:

. _ of living among the stone-age, gatherer-hunter

Pitjantjatjara in conditions where they were the majorily

and privileged, and we were the minority and under-

privileged, made a lasting and humbling impression on

me.,.

(Hackett 1978: 15).

44, Brockman to Cleland, 13.3.35, SAMA, AA 60, Ace

240, Campbell, who had the job of organising the trip,

cammented to Cleland on Brockman’s reply:

. .. Similar to most of the teplics from these outback

chaps. Earnest, helpful, friendly, but failing to give

answers tO specific and (to me) important queries

(Campbell to Cleland, 18.3.35, SAMA, AA 60, Acc

240).

45, “We much appreciate the reserving of carriages and

travelling most comfortably , . "Cleland to Railways Dept,

29.8.33,. and see Cleland to Minister for Railways, 24.1.34

for a record of (he Board’s x-ray equipment being

transported without charge over South Australian railways.

SAMA, AA 60, Ace 240,

46. Cleland to Elkin, 31-7.35 SAMA, AA 60, Ace 247.

SOUTH AUSTRALIAN ANTHROPOLOGICAL HISTORY as

47. Cleland wives (his description of the menu during the

MU Liebig expedition:

They were fed abundantly morning and evening . . .on

heavy damper, boiled wheal {which they liked Very

much), buck currants (also very much relished), tea and

sugar. ‘They soon voticed the absence of meat, and sa

from time to time sent oul their young men or the

women, the first (o spear Wallabies and the latter to dig

out rabbits. On Sunday they were given a half holiday,

being fed only in the morning , , .

(Cleland 1934; 849),

48. Cleland (1934: 849).

49, See Cleland (1934) for.a fuller description of these

uctivities.

50. The Mail, 13.8.32, SAMA, AA 298, Ace 2375, As to

why Aborigines might have developed such a theory, see

Hicks 1964; 405;

... a very experienced white bushman advised us

we should let it be known that what we were doing

would strengthen the chests of the participants, ‘make

goad wind’,

51, Cleland (1927; 78).

§2. Cleland (1930; 80),

33, Cleland (1934; 8449),

34, Philip Jones-Norman Tindale interview, 3.1.85. See

also Hicks 1964, 405:

a very experienved white bushman ,, advised us

to enhance the importance of ourselves and our

experiments by restricting Our fcasurements to the

male. Thus, the early morning procedttre became, was

it were, a secret corroboree or totem affair.

55. Ibid,

56, Cleland (1930: 80), The coincidence also inspired Fry

to work on developing his own method of hin term

classifieatian — the “Fry Framework’ (eg, ry; 1931),

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APPENDIX |: CLELAND'S SLIMMARY OF THE

SOARD'S WORK ON EXPEDITION P

(MACDONALD DOWNS)

Jn huis expedition repart to the ANRC (SAMA AAA,

Acc.240), Clelanel wrote;

‘The work cartied our may be grouped under rhe

following headings!

1. Physical anthropology

(a) Forty-five measurements of the various parts of the

body, including (weaty-five of the head and face

(b) Profiles

(dG) Hair (racts and characters and body distribution of

hair

(e) Body pigmentation, including the oral cavity

Matched against standard

(ft) Complete exantination of the teeth

(2) Blood srouping (59 individuals) and cross testing

af the native red cells in serutn

{h) Casis of the hand, feet and face

(i) General Sodily huild and other characters of eye, ear,

lips, nose, ete

4) Photographs of profile and [ofl face, head and bust.

SOUTH AUSTRALIAN ANTHROPOLOGICAL HISTORY 87

2. Physiological and psychological observations

(a) Pulse, temperature and blood-pressure observations

(by) Strength of grip, strength of pull, measuremerit of

sustuined grip

(¢) Sense estimations, such as visual acuity, range of

audition and hearing tests, olfactory senses, tactile

sensalion, and aesthesiometer

(d) Pressure, pain and temperature discrimination

(e) Discrimination of weights

(I) Discrimination of nuiibers and spanal perception

(g) Muscle co-ordination, such as peg-board, lapping

lest

(h) Reaction-times to sight and sound

(i) Mental tests, memory teats with blots and foar

impressions. Porteous maze, Goddard and Henley

puzzles

(i) Native drawings with crayons on paper comprising

(i) portrayal of natural subjects such as kangaroo, emu,

man, Varanus, etc. and (ii) totem representations.

3. Ethnology

(a) Individual data ag lo name, age, blood relations,

marriage class and lolem, and genealogy

(b) Phonographic records of native songs and 2U

standard words

({c) Photographic records of ceremonies and daily life,

inclhiding grain collecting, digging for lizards, and

collecting and preparation of load."

APPENDIX 2: DETAILS AND RESULTS OF

BOARD EXPEDITIONS A-M, O

N.B. Expedition records and most photographs are in S.A,

Museum unless otherwise specified. Master copies of

lo wim films are held in the Bare Smith Library, University

of Adelaide. Publication numbers refer io the bibliography

of Board expeditions im Appendix 3

Abbreviations SLSA — State Library of South Australia.

AIAS — Australian Institute of

Aboriginal Studies,

Expedition A: Wilgena, 24.11.25-27.11.25

Pernonnel: { 8, Cleland, 1, D, Campbell, [ B, Robertson,

Rk, H, Pulleine, E, Embree, C, Wisaler

Jnvesuigitive expedition only. Film records believed to exist

in Rockefeller files.

Photographs; c, 90 general views

Publication: 2

Expedition By Wilgena and Qeldea, 75,26-21.5 26

Personnel T. BD. Campbell iphysical anthropology, blood

grouping, dentistry) and ® Wood Jones (physical anthro-

polagy, blood grouping)

Record cards and photographs, 32 individuats

Other photopraphs: c, 100

Publications: t, 7

Expedition C: Macumba, Alice Springs, 30.12.26-19.1.27

Personnel: f, D. Campbell, C.J, Hackett (pliysical anthro-

fology), W. Ray (physiology and pathology), J, B. Cleland

{blood grouping, pathology, botanical work), E. H. Davies

(songs and music), F. Jeffrey (photographer),

E. W. Holden (transport, climatological records, assistant

to physical anthropology)

Record cards and photographs: 64 jadividuals

Other photographs: c. 300

Sound recordings; 17 wax cylinders-E, H, Davies (ALAS

tapes 9567, 9569, 9870, 9580)

Publications: 4-10, 69, 76, 105

Expedition D: Koanibba, 13.8.28-25.8.28

Personnel: T, D, Campbell, C, S, Hicks (physiology, basal

metabolism), E. Eldridge (Hicks' assistant, technician)

R, F, Matters (basal metabolism), M, L. Mitchell (physi-

ology), N, B. Tiudale (ethavlogy, pholography),

R. H. Pulleine (physiology), H.-H. Woollard (blood

grouping), F. Jeffery

Record cards and photographs: 52 individuals

Other photographs: c. 250

Sound recordings; 22 wax cylinders-E, H, Davies (ALAS

tapes 9564, 9565, YSRD)

Artefacts: c. 45

Publications: 11-14, 69, 105, 118, 123

Expedition E; Hermannsburg, 4.8,29 <23,8,29

Personnel; 1, B. Cleland, C. 8, Hicks, E. HM, Davies,

N. B. Tindale, C. J. Hackett, B. G. Maegraith (blood

grouping), H. kK. Fry (psychology, sociology), H. M, Hale

(photography, plaster casts)

Record cards and photographs: (00 individuals

Other photographs: ec. 200

Sound recordings: 34 wax cylindets-E. H. Davies (AIAS

tapes 9570, 9571, 9572, 9580)

Artefacts: ¢. 60

Publications: 15-20, 48, 65, 69, 76, 82, 105, 115, Li8, 123

Expedition F: MacDonald Downs, 17,8.30-[1,9.30

Personnel: J. B. Cleland, T D, Campbell, H. K. Fry,

R, H, Pulleine, He M Hale, NM. B, Tindale, T, Harvey

Johnston (assisted Cleland, botany, svoology),

H. J. Wilkinson (dermatoglyphs), 1. H. Gray (physical

anthropology, pathology)

Record cards and photoyraphs: 62 individuals

Other photographs: ¢. 200

Mace casts: 14

Sound recordings: 13 wax cylinders-N. B, Tindale (AIAS

tapes 9566, 9567, 9574)

14 mm film: 2 teels (800 fT. D, Canipbell and

N, B. Tindale)

Crayon drawings: 20 sheets

Artefacts: c. 180

Publications: 22-27, 32, 47, 68, 79, 105, 123

Expedition G; Cockatoo Creek, 6,8 41-27,8,4)

Personnel: J, B, Cleland, T. BD, Campbell, H. J, Wilkinson,

J... Gray, C. 8. Hicks, T. Harvey Johnston, H. Kk, Fry,

R. H, Pulleine, N, B, Tindale, E, O, Stocker (elnema-

fography), A, Rau (Museum taxidermist)

Record cards and photographs: 91 individuals

Other photographs: c. 200

Face and bust casts: 20

Sound recordings: 13 wax eylinders-N. 8, Tindale (ALAS

tape 9572)

16 mm tlm: 6 reels (2150 TB. OF Stacker)

Crayou drawings: [9 sheets

Artefacts: c. 240

AK P. G. JONES

Publications; 28-31, 33-37, 47, 48, 50, 69, 91, 99, 1N0, 105,

7, TER, 123

Expedition H: Mt Licbig, 4.8.22-25,8.32

E.Eldridge, T.D. Campbell, JH. Gray, H.K. Fry,

H. M. Hale, N, B. Tindale, E, O, Stocker, E, W, Holden,

H, Moore (gus analyses for physiological tests),

T, G, Strehfow (linguistics), M. Lamshed (‘Advertiser’

reporter)

Record cards and photographs: 93 individuals

Other photographs! c, 400

Face and bust casts: 8

‘Sound recordings: 6 wax cylinders-T, D. Campbell and

N. B. Tindale (ALAS tapes 9564, 9574)

16 mm film: 8 reels (3080 [1-E, OQ. Stocker)

Crayon drawings; 19 sheets

Artefacts: c. 320

Publications: 38-40, 42, 43, 45-47, 50, $2, $5-37, 69, 92,

99, 100, 105, 116, 118, 123

Expedition f: Mann Range, 25.5.23-6.6,33

Personnel: N. B, Tindale, C, J. Hackett and A, Brumbie

(cameleer)

Record cards and photographs: 129 individuals

Other photographs: c, 300

Sound recordings: 14 wax cyinders-N. & Tindale {ALAS

tapes 9574, 9575)

16 imme (ime 4 reels (1405 ft-N, B, Tindale)

Crayon drawings: 131 sheets

Attefacts: ¢, 140

Publications: 48, $1, G3, 76, 89, 122, 124

Expedition &) Ernabella, 7.8.33-24.8.33

N. B, Tindale, J, H, Gray, C, J. Hacketl, H, M, Hate,

H. K. Fry, M. Lamshed, J, O'Connor (Hicks" assistant}

Record cards and photography: 60 individuals

Other photographs: c; 200

Face and bust casts; 21

Sound recordings: 14 wax cylinders-N, B Tindale (AIAS

cape 9575)

[6 crim film: 9 reels (2475 1-H. K. Pry and N. B. Tindale)

Crayon drawings: 134 sheers

Artefacts: e, 220

Publications: 51, 52, 56-41, 69, 70, 73, 76, 83,96, 99, 100,

110, Lid, 118, 122, 123

Expedition J:. Diamantina, 10,.8.34-28,.8.34

Personnel: J. B, Cleland, T. H, Johnston, T, B, Campbell,

H, K. Fry, N. B. Tindale, F Fenner (anthropometry),

T. Vogelsang (history, ethnology), L. Wilkie (Director, Arr

Gallery of S.A, artist)

Record cards and photographs: 49 individuals

Other photographs: c, 120

Oil portraits: 8

Sound recordings: 14 wax eylindera-N. B, Tindale (ALAS

tape 9568)

16 Wm film! 3 reels (1200 ft-N. B. Tindale)

Artefacts: ¢, 75

Publications: 72, 75, 84, 93, 94, 105, 120, 123

Expedition K: Warburton Range, 26,7.35-6,9-35

Personnel: N. B. Tindale, C. J, Hackett, E, O. Stocker,

C, P, Mountford (photography, art recorda), E, Guoeridge

(assistant)

Record cards and photographs: 54 individuals

Other photographs: ec, 120, See also Mountford-Sheard

Collection, SLSA

Sond recordings: 14 wax cylinders-N. B. Tindale (ALAS

tapes 9578, 9579)

16 nim film: 8 reels (2825 ft-E.. O, Stocker)

Crayon Drawiigs: 301 sheets. Sce also Mountford-Sheard

Collection, SLSA

Artefacts: «45

Publications: 66, 77, 80, 81, 86, 88, 101-104, LOX, 109, 123

Expedition L: The Granites, 6,8.36-27,8,36

Personnel: J. B, Cleland, T. H, Johnston, H. K, Pry,

C, P, Mountford, H, M, Hale, E. Couper Black (anthro-

pometry, blood tests), O, Pink (anthropologist at Graniles)

Record cards and photographs: 49 individuals

Other photographs: See Mountford-Sheard Collection,

SLSA

Sound recordings: 2 wax cylinders (ALAS tape 9579)

16 mm film: 5 reels (1585 Tt-H. K. Fry and

C_P. Mounrford)

Crayon drawings: See Mountford-Sheard Collection,

SLSA

Artefacts: #. 30

Publications: &5, 87, 90, 97, 106, 121

Expedition M: Nepabunna, 22.5,37-3,.6.37

Personnel; J. B, Cleland, C. P. Mountford, H, M. Hale,

T. H, Johnston, E, Couper Black, A. K. Fry, H. M. Hale,

F. Fenner, F. Hall (assistant)

Record cards and photographs: 10 individuals

Other photographs; See Mountford-Sheard Collection,

SLSA

Face casts: (2

Sound recordings: 7 wax eylinders (ALAS tape 9579). See

also Mountford-Sheard Collection, SLSA .

{f min.film: See Mountford-Sheard Collection, SLSA

Drawings: See Mountford-Sheard Collection, SLSA

Artefacts: ¢. 35

Publications: 90, 95, 107, 110

[Expedition N; Harvard-Adelaide Universities Australia

wide expedition, 1938-1939, This expedition will be

discussed in a later paper,|

Expedition O; Ooldes, 15.8.39-26,8.39

Personnel: J, B, Cleland, T. H, Harvey Johnston,

F.C. Black, F. Fenner, R. M, Berndt (social anthro-

pology), A. Harvey (assistant)

Record cards and photographs: 101 individuals

Other photographs: ¢, 100

Artefacts: «. 20

Publications: 112, 13, 119

APPENDIX 2: AIBLIOGRAPHY OF PUBLICATIONS

RELATING TO BOARD EXPEDITIONS A-M,.0

Publications have been listed for each year and wre

numbered to refer to each expedition (Appendix 2).

1926

1, CAMPBELL, TD, & LEWIS, A. J, 1926, The

Aborigines of South Australia: Anthropometric,

SOUTH AUSTRALIAN ANTHROPOLOGICAL HISTORY 89

descriptive, and other observations recorded al

Ooldea. Trans. R. Soc. S. Aust, 50: 183-191,

2. CLELAND, J. B, 1926. Blood grouping of Australian

Aborigines, dust. J Exp, Bilal, Med, Res, 3: 33-35.

4. JONES, F. W, 1926. The claims of the Australian

Aborigine, Presidential Address (Section

F-Anthropology), 4.4.49 Report 18; 497-519,

1927

Adelaide University Field Anthropology, Central

Australia, No. | dntroduction, descriptive and

anthropometric observations, Trans, R, Soe, &. Aust.

51; 65-75.

5, CLELAND, J. B, 1927. Adelaide University Field

Anthropology, Central Australia, No. 3 Blood

grouping of Australian Aboriginals al Oodnadalia

and Alice Springs. Trans, R, Soc, $, Aust, 51:

78-80.

6, DAVIES, BE, H, 1927, Adelaide University Field

Anthropology, Centrad Australia. No, 4 Aboriginal

Songs. Trans, R. Soc, S Aust. 1: 31-92.

DAVIES, B, H. 1927, Palaeolithic music. Musical

Times 68: 691-695,

8. RAY, W. 1927. Adelaide Universiy Field

Awthropology, Central Australia No. 2, Physiological

Observalions. Trans. R. Soc, S, Aust, 51) 76-77,

1928

9. CAMPBELL, T. D. 1928. Adelaide University Field

Anthropology, Central Australia No. §. Dental

Notes. Trans, R. Sac, §, Aust. 52) 28-30.

10, CLELAND, J. B. 1928. Notes on dreams of

Australian Aborigines, Trans, R, Soc. & ust 52:

240.

1929

11. (LELAND, J. B. & WOOLLARD, H. H- £929.

Further resulis in the blood grouping of South

Australian Aborigines, Med. J, Aust. 2: 2-7,

12. ERY, H, K, 1929. Testing the intelligence of

Aboriginals, Med. J. Aust, 16: 866,

13. WOOLLARD, H. H. & CLELAND, J. B 1929,

Anthropology and blood grouping wilh special

references to (he Australian Aborigines, Man 24 no,

145.

1930

14, CAMPBELL, T. D. & MOORE, A. P. RB. £930.

Adelaide University Field Anitropology Dental

notes, Koonibba, South Australia. Aust Dentistry’

34; 123-127.

15. CLELAND, |. B, 1930. A short history of scurvy

in Australia. Med. J Ausr 17; 2-4,

16, CLELAND, J, B. 1930. Purther results in blood

grouping Central Australian Aborigines. Ast. 7

Exp. Biol. Med, Res, 7: 19-89,

17. CLELAND, J. B..& FRY, H, K 1930, An outbreak

of seurvy with joint lesions in Ausiralian Aborigines

in Central Australia, Mea. 4 Aust, 17: 5-7.

18, CLELAND, J. &, FRY, H RK. &

MAEGRAITH, B, G, 1930, Notes on ihe

fpatholowical lesions and vital statistics of Australian

tratives in Central Australia, Med J, Aust 17; 80-83,

19. PRY, H. K. 1930. Adelaide University Field

Anthropology; physiological and psychological

observations on the Australian Aborigines. Trans.

R. Sov. & Aust, 54; 76-104,

20, PULLEINE, R. & WOOLLARD, H. H. 1930.

Adelaide Univeralty Fleld Anthropology No 6.

Physiological and mental observations on the

Australian Aborigines, Trans, R. Soc, S Aust. 54:

62-75,

931

2), CLELAND, £ B. 1931. Blood srouping of Central

Australian Aborigines. 1930 series. J. Trap. Afed.

Flug. 24> 353-358.

22, CLELAND, £ B. (931. Botanical note on Centrat

Australia, S. Ausr, Nat. 12: 64-67.

23. FRY, H. K. & PULLEINE, & H, 193), The

mentality of the Australian Aborigine, Aus/, 4. Exp,

Biol, Med, & (53-167,

24. FRY, H- kK. 193) Adelaide University Fleld

Anthropology, Central Australia, No, 8 — A table

showing the class relations of rhe Aranda, Trans, &,

Soe, S, Aust. 58: 12-19.

25_ FRY, H. K. 1931, Adelaide University Field

Anthropology Central Australia. Na. 9 — On the

class system, kinship terminology, and marriage

regulations of the Australian native tribes, Trans. &

Soc, & Aust. 35: 20-22.

HICKS, C, 5, MATTERS, R, F. & MITCHELL, M,

L. 1931. The standard metabolism of Australias

Aboriginals, Aust. 4. £xp. Biol, Med. 8; 69-82; %:

177-183,

27. TINDALE, N. B. 193). Geological notes on the

Laura country north-east of the MacBDannell Range,

Contral Australia. Trans. R. Soc, 3, Aust. 55; 32-38.

28. TINDALE, N. B. 1931. Anthrapological expedition

to Central Australia. Med. 4. Aust 1%: 795-796.

1932

29. CLELAND, J. B 1932. The blood grouping of

Central Australian Aborigines, 1941 series, I Thap,

Med, Alyy. 35: 369-371,

30. CLELAND, J. B. 1932. Botanioal notes an Central

Australia. Part 2. 3. Aust Nat V3, 12-184

31, CLELAND, J. B. 1932. Field anthropology in

Australia. Science 75; 50-52,

CLALAND, J, B, 1932, Adelaide Universiry Field

Anthropology, Cemtral Australia. No 12 —

Botanical notes of anthropological interest From

MacDonald Downs, Central Australia. Trans. B.

Soc. S. Aust, 56; 36-38,

43, DAVIES, E. Dt. 1932. Aboriginal sengs of Central

and Southern Australia. Oceania 3, 454-467

34. PRY, H. K. i932. Adelaide University Picld

Anthropology, Central Australia, No, to

Genealogical studies of Australia tribal! systerns,

Trans. R. Soc. 8. Aust. 36: 27-35.

35. MAEFGRAITH, B G. 1932. Adelaide Universile

Field Anthropology, Central Australia. Na. Ll) —

‘The astronomy of the Arwnda and Lupija tribes

Trans. R Sue. & Aust S56 19-26,

J6. TINDALE, N, B. 1932. Primitive art of the

Australian Aborigines. Manyscripls i 38-42,

37. TINDALE, N. B. 1952. Notes on the supposed

primitive implements from the cableland regions of

Central Australia, Rec, So Aust, Mus, &) 485-488

1933

38.

4Y.

AO,

50,

1934

51.

52,

53,

54,

55.

5h.

57,

1935

58.

— ERY, HL K.

PF, G. JONES

CLELAND, J. B. 1933. Blood grouping af Central

Australian Aborigines, 1992 series, 4 Troy, Med,

Ays, 36: 1-2.

CLELAND, b B. 1933. University expedition ta

study the natives of Central Australia, Setence 77:

16-76).

CLELAND, | &, 1933, Studying the’ Australian

Aboriginal. Discavery, Feb. 1933: 48.

. CLELAND, J.B. 1933. Natives of South Australia,

Nature 132: 996.

. CLELAND, J. B® 1933. The Natives of Central

Australia. Med, « Aun 2; 342-334,

. CLELAND, J, B, & GRAY, J. H, 1933, Some

pathological conditions seen in Central Australian

Aborigines. 4. Trap, Mea, Hyg, Ma: 125-128,

. CLELAND, J, B, & JOHNSTON, T. H, 1933, The

history of (he Aboriginal narcotic, Piturl, Oceania

4; 201-223; 268-290.

. CLELAND, J, B. & JOHNSTON, T. H. 1933, The

ecology of the Aborigines of Central Australia;

batanical notes. Trans. &. Sac. § Aust. 57: 13-134,

FRY, H. K, 1933, Body and soul, A study from

western Central Australia. Oceania 3: 247-256,

1933. Australian marriage rules.

Socialagicel Review 25: 2548-277,

. HICKS, C. S&S & MATTERS, R. FE. 1933. The

standard metabolism of the Australian Aborigines.

Aust. J. Exp. Biol. Med. WW; 177-183,

. TINDALE, N. B. 1933. Preliminary report on

fieldwork among the Aborigines of the north-west

of South Australia, Oceania 4: 99-105,

TINDALE, N. B, 1933, Geological noles on the

Cockatoo Creek and Mount Liebig country, Central

Australia, Trans. &. Suc. 8. Aust. ST: 206-217

CLELAND, J.B. 1934, The nadves of rhe north-west

of South Australia, Meet, J, Ausi. 24s 848-853,

CLELAND, J. B.& GRAY, J, H. (994. Pathological

lesions in Natives of Central Australia (Mount Liehiy

area). J. Trop, Med. Hyg. 37: 305-311.

CLELAND, J, B.& GRAY, |, 4, 0934, Pathological

lesions met With aitiongst Aborigines in the

Musgrave Ranges, Soulh Australia, 4. Trop, Med,

Hyg, 37> 305-311,

CLELAND, J. B, & JGHNSTON, ', H, 1934, The

history of the Abonalnal narcotic Pluri Oceania

4: 20)-289,

FRY, H, K. 1934, Kinship in western Central

Australia, Oceania 4: 472-478.

FRY, H. K. (934, Kinship and descent among the

Australian Aborigines. Trams. R. Sov, 5. Aust. 58:

14-21,

1934. The respiratory exhange of (he Australian

Aborigine. Awst. 2 Exp. Biol. Med 12 79-89.

CLELAND, J. B. 1935. The waive of Central

Australia and his surroundings. Proc. &. Geog. Soc.

Aust, S Aust. Granck 35: Gf-81.

450,.WRY, HM, R. t935_ Native fe in Central Ausinlin.

Mar 35: Noth,

60),

61,

62.

63,

64.

66,

47,

W36

68.

69.

70.

74.

73,

FRY, H, K 1945, Aboriginal mesilality (resume),

Mankind t: 267-268.

GRAY, 1H. 1935. Hair tracts of the Australian

Aboriginal, & Anatomy $9; 206-225,

Preliminary observariows oa the chemisury and

pharmacology of the alkaloids of Dwbaisia

Sopweodu Aust, 4, Exp, Biol, Med. 13: 175-188.

1935, Uber die Pharmakologie der Ouboisie

Aopwoodi (D-Nornikotin), Archives internationale

de Pharmacodynamie et de Therapie 40: 335-353.

MAEGRAITH, B. G, 1935, ‘Our Stone Age

Contemporartes, the Aborigines of Central Aus-

tralia*. London.

- TINDALE, N. B. 1935. Initiation among the

Pitjandjara natives of the Mann and Tomkinson

Ranges in South Australis, Oceania 6: 199-224,

TINDALE, N. & 9935. The Australian Aboriginal:

his arts and crafts. Pragress in Aust, 5(11): 18-20;

(12) MAL

TINDALE, N. B. 1935. General report on the

an|hropolagical expedition to the Warburton Range,

hig Alistralia, Tuly-Seplember, 1935. Oceania

6: 481-85_

CAMPBELL, T. D. & GRAY, 1 H, 1994,

Observations on che teeth of Australian Aborigines.

Avs, £ Deni, 40; 290-95.

CAMPBELL, T. D, GRAY, J H. &

Aborigines of Central Australia. Qoewnia 6: LO6-139;

246-24)

CLELAND, J. B 1936. The botanical features

between Oodnadatta and Ermabella in the Musgrave

Ranges with a locality list of plants from the north-

west of South Australia identified by Mr J. M. Black,

AAS. Trans, R, Sac, & Aust, 60; 114-126,

, CLELAND, J, B. 1936, Etlno-botany in relation lo

the Central Australian Aboriginal, Mankind 2: 6-9.

CLELAND, 3, 8 & JOHNSTON, T, H, 1936, Blood

grouping of the Aborigines of the Diamantina

district in the north-east of South Australia. 4 Trop,

Med. Hye. 39: 104-105.

CLELAND, J. B, JOHNSTON, T. H. &

HACKETT, C J. 1936. Blood grouping of the

Aborines of (ha Musgrave Ranges in te porth-

west of South Australia. Tron Med. Myg, 39:

25-228.

CLELAND, J, B. & TINDALE, N- B. 1936. Natives

of South Australia. Jn ‘The Centenary History of

South Australia. R. Geog. Soc, Aust, S Aust,

Branch, Adelaide: 'f-29,

FENNER, F. J. 1936. Adelaide University lield

Arthropomorphic observations on South Australian

Aborigines of the Diamantina and Cooper Creek

Tegions, frams. R Soc. S Aust, 60) 46-54,

. HACKETT, C. J. $936. ‘Boomerang leg and yaws

in Australian Aborigines”. R. Soc. Tropical Medicine

and Fiygiene. Monograph nat.

. HACKETT, €, J, 1936, On the carriage of serum

for the Wayserman tesi. Mea, £ Aust. 23: 650,

78.

80.

Rl.

1937

R2,

83,

87.

QS,

Q6.

97.

SOUTH AUSTRALIAN ANTHROPOLOGICAL IISTORY a

chemisiry of d-Nor-Nicojine, An alkaloid of

Dubotsia hapweodii. Aust... Exp. Biol. Med. 14

39-43.

SPATH, E,, HICKS, C. 3. & ZAJILC, E, 1936, Uber

das d-Nor-Njcotin. Berichte der deutschen’

chemischen Gesellschaft G8: 250-25\.

TINDALE, N. B, 1936, General report on the

anthropological expedition to the Warburton Range,

Western Australia, July-Sepiember 1935, Oveania @;

482-485,

TINDALE, N. B, 1936, Legend of the Wati Kutjara,

Warburton Range, Western Australia, Oceania 7;

169-185,

CAMPBELL, T, D. 1937, Observations on the teeth

of Australian Aborigines, Hermannsburg, Aust. J.

Dent. 41: 1-6,

CLELAND, J. B. & JOHNSTON, 'T, H, 1937. Notes

on native names and uses of plants in the Musgrave

Ranges region. Ocednia 8: 208-215; 328-342.

FRY, H. K, 1997, Dieri legends. Folk Lore 48;

187-206, 269-287,

Australia Geegraphical Magazine 4; 287-304.

MOUNTRORD, C, P, 1937, Aboriginal crayon

drawings from the Warburton Ranges in. Westertt

Austratia relating to the wanderings of two ancestral

bejags, ine Wati Kurjara. Ree. 8S. Aust, Mus. 6! 5-28,

MOUNTFORD, C. P. 1937. Aboriginal crayon

drawings, relating (o lotemic places belonging lo the

northern Aranda tribe of Central Australia. Trans.

&. Soo. 3. Aust. tit: 81-95-

Windulda, Western Australia, Oceania 7; 429-435,

. TINDALE, N. B. 1937. Natives of the Western.

Desert of Australia, Mun 37) no, 34,

. BLACK, 5. C. & CLELAND, J. B 1938,

Pathological lesions in Australian Aborigines,

Central Australia (Granites) and Flinders Ranges,

JL. Trop. Med. Hyg. 41: 69-83.

, CAMPBELL, T. D. (938. Observations on the leeth

of Australian Aborigines, Cockatoo Creek, Central

Australia. Aust. J Dent. 42: 44-47,

2, CAMPBELL, T. D, 1938, Observatians on the teeth

of Australian Aborigines, Mt. Liebig, Central

Australia, dws, . Deni. 42; 85,

, CAMPBELL, T. D. 193%, Observations on the tecth

of Australian Aborigines, River Diamantina, S.A,

Aust, £ Deni, 42; (2.

, CLELAND, J. & 1938. Pathological lesions met with

in Aborigines of the Diamantina district in the narth-

vast of South Australia. & Trop, Med. Hye. 41:

57-58.

CLELAND, J, B & JOHNSTON, T. H. 1938. Blaod-

grouping of Aborigines of the northern Flinders

Ranges in South Australia, 4 Trop, Med, Hye. 43;

26-27,

CLELAND, J. B. & JOHNSDON, T, HH. 1938. ates

on native names and uses of plants in the Musgrave

Ranges region, Oeeuria & 208-215; 428-342.

CLELAND. J. B & JOHNSTON, T. H. 1938. Blood

98.

99.

100.

101,

104,

1939

105,

106,

107.

110.

prowping of Aborigines in the north-west portion

of Central Australia. 1936 series, Trop, Med, Hyg.

44> 00-12,

FRY, H, K, 1938, ‘Fear in Primitive Society’.

Oceasional Publication no. 1, Anthropological Soe,

S. Aust, Adelaide.

HICKS, CS. & O'CONNOR, W. J. 1938. Skin

temperature of Australian Aboriginals under varying

atmospheric conditions. dust. 4. Exp Biol Med

14; 1-18,

HICKS, C.5. &O’CONNOR, W. J. 1938. The effect

of changes of environmental temperature on the skin

circulation of (he qaked Aboriginal, a8 measured by

the Sahli-Jaguet volume-bolography. Aust. Eye

Biol, Med. 14; 19-38,

MOUNTFORD, C. P. 1938, Aboriginal crayon

drawings 3: The Jegend of Wat-Sula and the

Kunkarunkara women, Trans, R. Sec. 5, Aust, 62:

241-254,

MOUNTFORD, C. P. (938. Contrast in drawings

made by an Australian Aborigine before and after

initiation, Rec. S. Awst, Mus. 6 (11-114,

3, MOUNTFORD, C P, 1938. Gesture language of the

Ngada tribe of the Warburton Ranges, Western

Australia. Oceania 9: (52-155.

TINDALE, N. B. 1938, A game from the Grear

Western Desert of Australia. Man 38. no. 145.

CAMPBELL, T. BD. 1939. Food, food values and

food habits of the Ausiralian Aborigines in relation

to their dental conditions, Parts I-5, dus, / Der,

43: 1-15; 45-55; 73-87; 141-)56¢ 177-198.

CLELAND, J. B. & JOHNSTON, T, H, 1939,

Aboriginal names and uses of plants al the Granites,

Central Australia, Trans. &. Soc, S Aust, 63: 22-26.

CLELAND, J. B & JOHNSTON, T. H. 1939.

Aboriginal names and uses of plants tm Northern

Fhaders Ranges, Trans, &, Soc S, Aust, 636 172-179

. MOUNTFORD, C. PF. 1939. Aboriginal crayou

drawings 4; Relating co everyday incidents of the

Ngada tribe of the Warburion Ranges of Western

Australia. Trans. R. Soc §. Anse 63: 1-13.

drawings, Warburton Ranges, Western Australia,

Oceania Wk 72-79.

MOUNTFORD. C, P, 1939, An Anyamatana legend

of the Pleiades. Vict. Nat, 56: 103-4.

LATER REFERENCES

ii.

13.

114,

Hs.

CLELAND, J, B, 1950, The paruralist io medicine

with particular reference to Australia. Med. J. Aust.

37: 549-563.

CLELAND, J. B. & JOHNSTON, T, H. 1941. Blood

grouping of Australian Aborigines at Ooldea, S.A.

1939 series. J Trop, Med. Hyg, 44- 76-78,

CLELAND, J. BR & JOHNSTON, T. H. (942.

Aboriginal names and uses of planis in the Ooldea

region, S.A. Trans, R. Sov, 5. Aust. bt. 93-103.

CLELAND, +. B.& JOHNSTON, TH, 1943, Native

names and uses of plants i the nortn-western corner

of South Australia. Troms. & Soc. 3. Aust 67;

149-173,

FRY, H. K. 1953. Anthrapology and psychology.

Med, J. Aust, 40; 543-549.

116.

ibs bei

118.

119.

120.

121.

122.

P. G. JONES

FRY, H. K. 1957. Concerning Aboriginal marriage

and kinship. Trans. R. Soc. S. Aust 80: 1-16.

HICKS, C. S. 1963. Climatic adaptation and drug

habituation of the Central Australian Aborigine.

Perspectives in Biology and Medicine 7: 39-57.

HICKS, C. S. 1964. Terrestial animals in cold:

exploratory studies of primitive man. Jn D. B. Dill

(Ed.). ‘Handbook of Physiology, Section 4.

Adaptation to the Environment’. American

Physiological Society, Washington: 405-412.

JOHNSTON, T. H. 1940. Some Aboriginal routes

in the western portion of South Australia Proc. R.

Geogr. Soc. Aust., S. Aust. Branch 42: 36-65.

JOHNSTON, T. H. 1943. Aboriginal names and

utilisation of the fauna in the Eyrean region. Trans.

R. Soc. S. Aust. 56: 244-311.

MOUNTFORD, C. P. 1950. Gesture language of the

Walpari tribe, Central Australia. Trans. R. Soc. S.

Aust. 73: 100-101.

TINDALE, N. B. 1941. A list of the plants collected

in the Musgrave and Mann Ranges, S.A. S. Aust.

Nat. 21: 8-12.

123. TINDALE, N. B. 1974. ‘Aboriginal Tribes of

Australia. Their Terrain, Environmental Controls,

Distribution, Limits, and Proper Names’. UCLA

Press, Berkeley.

RELEVANT MANUSCRIPT MATERIAL

CLELAND, J. B. Notes, lectures and correspondence

(various expeditions), SAMA AA60.

FRY, H. K. Notebooks relating to Expeditions E, F, G,

H, I, J, L, M. SAMA AA104.

HACKETT, C. J. 1933 ‘A letter from an unknown world’

[Expedition I] SAMA AA122.

HACKETT, C. J. 1936 Initiation ceremonies among the

Aborigines of the Warburton Ranges, Western Australia.

19 pp. Typescript. SAMA, AIAS.

MOUNTFORD, C. P. Notebooks, film, sound recordings,

crayon drawings (Expeditions K, L, M)

Mountford-Sheard Collection, State Library of S.A.

TINDALE, N. B. Expedition journals and field notes for

Expeditions D, E, F, G, H, I, J, K. SAMA (Restricted).

REVIEW

Art and Land: Aboriginal Sculptures of the Lake

Eyre Region by Philip Jones and Peter Sutton (with

special assistance by Kaye Clark). South Australian

Museum ion association with Wakefield Press,

Adelaide, 1986. 144 pp., 119 numbered figs (57 in

volour), 431 additional black-and-white

illustrations. Paperbound $A29,95.

{i is some indication of the present stale of

Australian ethnographic studies in general and

museum publication polictes in particular, that rhe

first thing which must be recorded abour ‘Art and

Land'is just how weleome is @ catalogue — any

catalogue — in this field.

In contrast, throughoul Europe the old tradition

of the production of meticulously documented

badles of material supported by relevant

commentary cantinuess in the context of

Australasian ethnography consider, among others,

the work of the Museums fiir Valkerkunde in Berlin

(West) or Basel. Here in Australia ttself in recent

years one can only turn to spécial exhibition

catalogues such ag that of the ill-fated ‘Aboriginal

Austealia’ (Art Gallery Directors’ Council, Sydney

1981), or the few of any scholarly weight emanating

trom che Art Gallery side of the Great Institutional

Divide (amongst the exceptions see most recently,

Maughan & Zimmer (Eds) ‘Dot and Circle; A

Retrospective Survey of the Aboriginal Acrylic

Paintings of Central Australia’, R.M.LT..

Melbourne, 1986), As a true example of the basic

working tool of the material culture specialist —

a dying breed one must assume, despite the best

efforts of Professor Barrie Reynolds and his

colleagues at James Cook University — | can only

think of David R. Moore’s ‘The Torres Strait

Collection of A, C, Haddon’ (British Museum Pub-

lications, London, 1983}, This suggests two things:

firstly, scholars indeed have no peed of the

‘rauitional' culalogue raisonné, (IF sa, why do they

continue to be praduced in the related fields of

archaeology and art history, in many cases with the

aid of the ‘new information technology’ of

microfiche, interactive videodise, ete?) Secondly, it

sugeests that publication of works of scholarship

no lopiger needs to have a high priority in our public

museums, dedicated as they are to an ever-increasing

public role. | believe neither of these bo be true.

‘ArL and Land’, like the exhibition to which it

forms a necessary and seemingly necessarily high-

cost adjinet, attempts two things: to record a

discrete body of material and te present it in such

a Way as fo afiract general attention ta a Tittle-

knuwn aspect of South Australian Aboriginal

material culture — suitably enough, in the State's

sesquicentenary year and in the international forum

ot Adeliide’s Festival of Arts.

‘Art and Land’ is the work of two members of

the staff of the South Australian Museum. Philip

Jones, an historian, has contributed Chapters 2-4,

on the mission history of the area; on the main

figure in thar history, Pastor Reuther, and a detailed

description culminating in a catalogue (prepared

with Kaye Clark), of the 421 known extant toas. and

seven telated dog figurines now inf Austrahan,

German and New Zealand collections, Peter Sutton,

Head of the Division of Anthropology at the South

Australian Museum and an anthropologist by

training, has written ihe Introduction and Chapter

5. entitled ‘From object into subject’, as well as

Chapter 1, ‘The sculptors and their background’,

In addition to the small group of dog figurines

in painied and modelled spinifex gum, the toas —

4 term whose origin, like much else about the

material, is obscure and still largely a matter for

speculation — are small sculptures of wood and

gypsum painted in natural earth colours. Three sub>

types are identified: Type | with a natural object

or artefact attached to the head, type Li with actual

moulded or carved representations of artefacts or

natural objects, and type [1], toas decorated with

painted designs only.

This is supposed to be a review of the publieation

and not of the exhibition — whase design by lan

Maidment is reflected In part by Peter Goeldi's over-

fussy design of the book with its frustrating habit

of over-reduction of relevant documentary material

(Figs 75, 79, 102-107). The exhibition may be

categorised as a good example of the ‘object-as-

individual-treasures' approach thoroughly

established in the 1960s and early 1970s by such

international successes. but largely academic

failures, as ‘The Treasures of Tutankhamun’ (British

Museum, London, 1972) ar ‘Sacred Circles: Two

Thousand Years of North American Indian Ari’

(Arts Council of Great Britain, 1976-77). The design

of the book seems to exhibit in ils turn the

difficulties of pulting within one and the same

covers an attractive visual package and a usable

scholarly tool. Notwithstanding, one may comment

that exhibition designers and booksellers alike know

only tow well that very often what's in 4 name 4s

a difference between public success and failure, (The

major 1986 Adelaide Festival presentation of the

Art Gallery of South Australia, “Wild Visionary

Spectral’, isa case in pomr as to how the very title

may be sufficient to keep them away In droves.) “Art

and Land’ offers its own direction markers as to

where its devisers intend to take us. If is admittedly

all too question-begging a title, but too much

printing ink has already been spilt and too many

words have already been processed as to whether

or not the authors are correct in claiming — or

rather suggesting — that their chosen subject matter

is in fact ‘art’, whether ‘art’ is to be regarded simply

as ‘cultural artefacts of high value’, as a form of

communication, or merely as whatever the viewer

thinks it means. For those who are concerned to

fight over this particular arid battle-ground again,

it must suffice here to refer to Donald Brook’s

article ‘Without wishing to tread on anyone’s toas’,

Artlink 6: 2/3 (June/July 1986), 4-5; Peter Sutton

on ‘The sculpted word: a reply to Donald Brook

on toas’, Adelaide Review 32 (November 1986), and

the response in turn by Brook, ‘Touching one’s toas’,

Adelaide Review 33 (December 1986). All of which

proves, as if one didn’t already know, that

philosophers are more cunning word-smiths than

anthropologists and that, in the present context,

neither can prove the truth of an argument, the

settling of which must be regarded as a matter of

supreme indifference to the culture which has

sparked off yet another chapter in the old Euro-

centric debate as to ‘what is art?’ The (only slightly)

more important question as to whether this material

was originally produced as ‘art’ by its makers is,

however, not one fully addressed by the authors of

‘Art and Land’ in their book. And this, despite the

(unattributed) reference to Rudyard Kipling’s often

quoted ‘Conundrum’ (p. 18), and their expressed

aim to expose ‘the layers of added meaning’

acquired by the material since its manufacture;

exposing ‘the additive process to open view so that

all the associations of the sculptures, not just the

record of their “original meanings”, may be

understood’ (p. 12).

But just what is this material which has here been

so carefully illustrated and described? It is this

question as to the original purpose served by the

toas which certainly interests me as an archaeologist

of art.

The original collector of the toas was Johann

Georg Reuther (1861-1914), Pastor of the Lutheran

Mission of Killalpaninna where, prior to his transfer

to Hermannsburg in 1895, Carl Strehlow had

worked. The evidence of Reuther’s meticulously

kept ethnographic accounts of the region supported

by the illustrations prepared for him and the

independent comments of H. J. Hillier, the then

school master at the Mission (significantly the only

contemporary sources of information on the toas),

suggest the manufacture of the toas over a short

period of time between 1890 and 1905. In what in

many ways is the most interesting — and instructive

— section of his historical commentary entitled

‘The Great Toa Hoax?’ (pp. 54-61), Jones makes

it clear that much of the controversy which has

subsequently surrounded the toas can be referred

to the quest for a uniting and unifying explanation -

for their general production. The Melbourne

collector A. S, Kenyon in 1920, and George Aiston

in 1938 both expressed extreme doubts as to the

authenticity of the toas. An alternative and much

more complex hypothesis can be advanced in the

light of several seemingly unrelated factors: the

apparently extremely short-lived period of their

production; the demonstration by Howard Morphy

in his 1972 London M. Phil. thesis that a study of toa

symbolism indicates in them the use of certain

visual conventions, systematic but without the

grammar and semantics of a natural language;

Reuther and Hillier’s own limited command of the

Aboriginal languages spoken on the mission;

Hillier’s own training as an artist; and lastly and

certainly not least, the fact that Reuther’s collection

which in 1903 had been offered to a visiting Russian

ornithologist, A. L. Yashchenko for 10 English

pounds finally passed to the South Australian

Museum in 1907 for forty times that amount.

The answer to the conundrum is perhaps over-

simply but honestly summarised in the free guide

which now — though not at its opening, alas —

accompanies the exhibition; the symbols and

designs of the toas represent hundreds of places in

the country east of Lake Eyre. The toas tell the

stories of the Muramuras or creation ancestors

moving throughout the region during their

Dreatning wanderings. The guide continues:

‘Although the toas have been described as direction

‘markers or sign-posts, it has not been proven that

they were used for this purpose. The evidence

suggests that Aboriginal people made the toas in

order to depict their country and their beliefs’. The

foreword to the book (pp. 8-9) is written by

Emeritus Professor Ronald Berndt, most recent in

the line of distinguished German South Australians

concerned with the study of Aboriginal culture.

Largely on the strength of his own early contact

with the Diyari, the main tribal group of the area,

Berndt is much more definite as to the sign-post

— and signing — role of the toas. He calls them

‘public religious statements, available for all to see,

although many of the designs of them were not

unlike those on secret-sacred objects’. These are

features which are of course shared by many other

items of Aboriginal material culture even in most

recent times, and to which the label ‘art’ has largely

uncontentiously been applied. The acrylic paintings

of the Centre are an example. Berndt’s further

comment in his foreword that the toas ‘enshrined

the Aboriginal empathy with the land’ is, I feel, the

key to the debate. Christopher Pearson in a lucid

summary on ‘Aboriginal toas — hoax or mystery?’

Adelaide Review 23, Festival 1986) suggests that the

‘mystery’ is to be explained by a lack of recognition

of just how adaptable aspects of Aboriginal culture