Even those settlers—and there were plenty of them—who were “very good to the blacks”, never, with the rarest of exceptions, really came to know their inner life, their inner beliefs—understandably so. The puzzle was so well hidden in the first place, and the pioneers’ days from dawn to dark were so laboriously occupied in knocking a living out of this so often harsh, strange land, handicapped by their own localized and individual problems of life and labour and isolation, transport, and the battle to survive despite the frugal, and sometimes non-existent, market for their heavy labours.

For instance, how could the new settlers coming to this strange land and people be expected to learn that the primitive “blacks” had long since developed command of three languages? These were their tribal language, a sign language with which they could converse perfectly amongst themselves, quite undetected even in the presence of the whites, and a Sacred Language, their Secret Language, only used among the fully initiated elder men and only on occasions of deep significance.

Easy for us to understand now why the settlers never got to know the real, inner lives and deep beliefs of the nomad primitives who haunted the lonely bush around them.

As for my own humble self, granted a wandering life in isolated localities under conditions very favourable to getting to know and understand “the old abo.”, and with the keenest of interest from youthful days, only after years of wanderings amongst the semi-wild and still wild tribes, and of actually living at times with various tribes, did I pierce the veil of their real beliefs, to be slowly amazed by the fact that all the time many of their beliefs, their hopes and fears, were strangely akin to ours. It took me half a lifetime of roaming over the continent and northern coasts to realize there was such a lot I did not know, such a lot I had missed. Little wonder, then, that we have never got to know the real aboriginal.

Too late now The Stone Age man has vanished with the years. And a story of man going back to the mists of time has vanished with him.

Baia-me

Baia-me, the Great Builder, Builder of All Things, the Great Spirit, was, under various tribal names, believed in with reverent secrecy among many tribes, if not by all. He represented one of their deep cultural beliefs, and was rarely mentioned except in the Secret Language, amongst the elders when alone, and to initiates undergoing the sacred ceremonies.

Wunda

Wunda was a spirit with a white skin. So far as my experiences among aboriginals goes, this same spirit was believed in, under varying names, among numerous tribes over a vast area. It is my personal opinion that Wunda, under different names, was probably believed in by every tribe throughout the continent—certainly by tribes I have come in contact with across northern Australia from the east coast to the west, from Queensland’s Cape York Peninsula to Western Australia’s Kimberley coast.