The old man then spoke of the mountain, breaking into a chant – a long account of the life he was born to before the kiaps came, and the strange shock of the war between the tauba Australians and the Japanese. The clan chiefs nodded, and added their stories of when they were boys and went down to the town. The old chief sang of the dangers that came with the army men, disturbing an initiation, taking the boys to war before they were tattooed, catching them like birds in a trap.

‘Why are they telling us this?’ Rika whispered to Leonard. ‘Is this a warning?’

‘It’s a history. Listen.’

The chiefs sang on, a rhythmic telling of disruptions to the mountain that came with the new ways of government and plantations, the bad spirit of money. Boja refilled their tin cups from the kettle and the coffee jar, while Leonard began a long explanation to Rika about the tribe’s system of causality and the ways in which disruptions are understood as supernatural, upsetting the mountain, which became distressed, bringing sickness and trouble to the clans.

Listening to Leonard, and watching the solemn row of chiefs watch her, Rika felt bloated. Their stories were burying the story of love in her. In the limelight of a small campus, her betraying heart had been a beacon. Here on the ridge top, with nothing shining on it, it had become invisible. Looking into the faces of the old men, she felt the impossible distance between that world and this. She wanted to stop Leonard from talking. She’d never know anything if she blocked up unknowing with too much knowing. She wanted to sit, quiet beside the woman chief Nogi, absorb her.

There was an uneasy sensation low in Rika’s back. It surprised her, sitting there, to look down and see that her legs still existed, neatly folded on the mat. Nogi smiled across to her, made a gesture with her hands and stretched her legs out in front of her. Rika followed her example, and, yes, it was better. A nod from Nogi. A smile in exchange. She wanted the evening to end, she wanted to lie down, retrieve Aaron, be with him in her mind. But the old chief Nanaji still had the welcome song to sing with Nogi. The song welcoming her, the first tauba woman to come to the mountain, wife to the man Leonard who came in service of the mountain. Boja was at the door calling for Obi to translate. He was Boja’s brother’s son and the chief’s grandson.

‘He do grade five,’ Boja said. ‘Nanaji say this boy must stay on the mountain, learn the custom stories. The teacher want Obi to go to school. Duvahe say plenty young men go to Popondetta to work on the plantations. They make small money. Learn bad ways. No good.’ Boja sighed, then added, ‘Nanaji, he old man.’

‘He’s right about the plantations,’ Leonard said. ‘But maybe it’d be good for Obi to go to school and learn the ways of government. Independence will come one day. Maybe sooner than we expect.’