Daisy Bates and Australian Aborigine Wisdom

Many modern anthropologists never see beyond their own cultural prejudices. Early man had vast knowledge of nature and the universe, knowledge of realms unknown and inconceivable to modern science. Anthropology discards the clues to this knowledge when they are encountered, not realizing their significance or, sometimes, afraid of where they might lead. We should treasure these faint glimpses, flashes of insight into a human consciousness far different than our own, yet ultimately available to us.

The Aborigines of Australia are one of the oldest cultures on earth, claiming to possess oral history going back at least 40,000 years (most of which is not shared with outsiders). They have a technology of the mind and spirit awesome in it's breadth.

Daisy Bates was an Irish woman who, in the first half of the twentieth century, spent about 35 years with the Aborigine people who at the time appeared to be in a death spiral. She cared for the remnants of many tribes in southern Australia, all the while recording their languages, lives and legends. Her work documented much that would have otherwise been lost, although it appears that in order to sell her writings to the media (her only income) she invented some small, but sensational, portions of her material.

Here is an excerpt from her autobiography:

"The dying man reclined upon a little slope, and I sat beside him, with the group chanting in low tones. From a bundle beside him he brought out a package of emu feathers and human hair, from which he drew a magic bamburu of fine yellow acacia wood, exquisitely carved and etched, with the crude form of a woman its centrepiece.

He pointed to the figure and said "That is you, kabbarli, dhoogor kabbarli (woman of the dream-time)."

I replied quietly, "I know that boggali (grandson)," and handed it back.

"I am old," said Ngargala. "I give you my magic and you will keep it with your bamburu."

As he said these words, he placed his hands upon my breast, and I placed mine on his. Then he placed the bamburu between us, with its blunted ends pressed against our bodies, and with his black hands gathered the magic of his heart and stomach, drew it slowly and firmly along the bamburu with one closed hand at the other end to catch it and impregnate it into my breast.

At last I said, "That is all, boggali Now I have your magic and mine. We are strong for all time. This bamburu will never leave me. It will sit down with me daytime and night-time."

..... I never saw Ngargala again, but those of the groups who were then present would always know me, and many a time have repeated softly by way of greeting and recognition the chant that they sang during the transfer of the old man's magic bamburu." from "The Passing of the Aborigines" by Daisy Bates, page 96-7

:::Deep sigh:::


"Emu Dreaming",
by Cole Archer, Central Australia.


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