Free When Darkness Falls by John Bodey Page B

whole moon. It is time the boys were getting back to their wives and children. Come with us, Nundi-noora, come with me. You have nothing keeping you here.”
    â€œGo, Munmurra. Make peace with your dead first. When you come again, I’ll be waiting to see this wonderful place you call home.”
    Mother set off with Munni and Datun, and as they journeyed the river began to look familiar, the hills, the trees and the bird life. Wallabies and emus roamed the flood plains. The country, though dry and dusty, held life. They camped and waited for first light. The night seemed strange. There wasn’t a breath of air and the dancing shadows from the firelight sent strange sensations along the boys’ spines; cold shivers made their sleep short and light. With sun flooding through the trees along the river, Mother led them to the ancient home ground. She stood on the barren, hard-packed earth that had been her home and looked about, then she and Munni walked to where their humpy had once stood. There was nothing, nothing but memories.
    â€œDo you recognise your old home, my son?”
    â€œNo, Mother. I see nothing familiar, I feel nothing. Let’s go to the river and gather up the bones of the women, thenput them to rest and be on our way. I wonder where they sat and died?” He looked around. “Where’s Datun?”
    â€œHe went to be by himself. There he is, sitting on the river bank under those shady trees. I don’t remember anything like them growing around here before.”
    â€œAren’t they lovely, Mother? The way their branches droop down over the bank and into the water. And see how the leaves sway in the breeze. When it passes, they droop back as if they’re drinking.”
    â€œLook at the tree again where Datun is sitting. It looks as if its branches are embracing him.”
    Munni counted the weeping trees. “Mother, there are seven of those trees.”
    Mother called across to Datun. “Are you all right son?”
    â€œYes, Mother. It’s so peaceful sitting here. It no longer feels frightening. I feel like I’m home.”
    â€œYou are home, son. This was the home of our people. Would you like to come back and stay?”
    â€œNo. We have our homeland now. This was the homeland of our parents. One day I will bring Kahla and Sharca and the others here for a visit, a small walkabout. But stay? No, there is nothing here for me except perhaps this tree. I think I’ll gather some seeds to take home and plant, then I’ll have memory of the place of my birth.”
    â€œYou are ready to go?”
    â€œYes, Mother.”
    â€œThen there is nothing holding us here. We’ve done what we came here to do, set our people free. Let’s go home.”
    â€œHome, Mother? Your home too? Or will your heart always be here? Is this what you really want?” asked Munni.
    â€œYes, son. I have all I want. I have my life, my children, and my grandchildren.”
    â€œAnd what about a man? Isn’t that partly why we came?”
    â€œOh, I have that. Nundi-noora is waiting, and now I will have a companion in my old age. What more can an old woman want?”
    â€œAhem! Grandson. The day grows late and we have yet to walk back to the camp. What a wasted day’s fishing, all for the sake of a lousy catfish, not enough for a good feed.”
    â€œOh, I don’t know, Grandad. I think it’s been one of our best fishing days. Do you think Datun went back to that place? And that tree? I have a strange feeling his mother made it.”
    They trudged off carrying their catfish. The old man’s arm was around the child as they walked towards the setting sun, their ambling gait free and easy. They were at ease with life and their surroundings. They were where they belonged, deep in the heart of the Australian bush.

The Parrots and the Vine

    I’d like to think that the nomadic tribe that “Mother” and “Imagen”