MAKING OF
You are about to enter the Ucumble (Jukenbul) Dreaming Arena of History, Past & Present.
These are realms of ancient lands of Knowledge.
Be reminded to pay respects to the old people and old lores and the age old warriors who fought and died defending their countries.
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FIRST ENCOUNTER
Pulling up at Bassendean’s main homestead and greeting our caretaker for the day's itinerary I would be venturing in and learning on country.
I journeyed toward the picnic area adjacent to Stony Creek, my car radio blaring 2NZ 1188 with its distasteful sound of trumpeting music and chorusing “HELLO WORLD. This is John Laws’’. The presenter wasted no time in finding Aboriginal Affairs as the climate of the day. With a flick of the switch I turned him and his hate speech off.
With a quick drink of water, a stretch I let myself take in the lovely sunny morning that greeted me as I ventured down onto the creekbed. It was maybe 9:45- 10:am in the morning with a top of 26 - 30 degree day predicted ahead with no,prevailing winds.
But as I walked under the casuarina trees I suddenly felt a different kind of welcome to country. A breeze whistled with a rushing sweep through the canopy’s top branches and throughout the she-oaks with an eerily orchestrated tune. For five minutes I stood gazing about my surroundings with goose bumps on my arms.
A few more lengths downstream and again a sudden burst of whispering flowing howls. I pursued it with excitement. I felt reassured that this was the place I was looking for. I was going off a description of assured information and knowledge pertaining to my Great ,G.G.G, Great Grandmother who was known as the “ Queen’’ or rather the “clever women” of our people about an important battle which took place here.
As I moved further downstream paying particular attention to the tea tree species which is a major contributing factor to finding the war burial mounds of Nimula and the battle itself. I felt such euphoria. I stood at the creek edge continually saying “ this is it ” to myself, looking eastward to the other side of the bank.
Suddenly turning to the right over my shoulder I caught sight of a large red kangaroo buck glaring directly at me from a slope off the edge of a heath of tea tree. He was looking directly into my eyes.
We held this glaring gaze at one another for what must have been a minute, before he slowly turned and bounced off among the tea tree.
This experience left me euphoric and spontaneously affirmed within me that the tea tree vegetation was that of the legend. The Red buck bounding slowly off into the tea tree, stopping to look back here and there confirmed it.
From this point onwards I remained to the western edge of Stony Creek and traveled further downstream, taking photos of the picturesque beauty of the granite rock formations.
As I did so I found an elongated granite rock that formed like a drip or teardrop flowing from the creekbank shelf to the watermark. What I’m about to explain here is my spiritual prerogative: On the very tip of the teardrop of the rivers edge was droplets of blood, like when someone is bleeding from the nose. I thought it was perhaps our caretaker and that he had had an accident while driving around on his quad bike upstream or perhaps fencing ahead of me somewhere. I was totally convinced it was human blood. I followed the drip line all the way up along the granite shaped teardrop escarpment to the grass vegetation where it vanished. I could not find even a trace amongst the grass and soil, as though it had been contained. There were no injured animals in sight. The droplets seemed reasonably fresh though starting to dry in some areas. I photographed what I saw. I decided this was the length of my exploration for the day and turned and headed towards the car not realizing the length and breadth I’d traveled.
As I made my way back I stumbled across some graves, marked in the old way. One of which I believe indicates where Kibbi fell. Ironically it was also the opposite side of the creekside of tea trees where earlier I had seen the Red kangaroo glaring at me.
I drove back to the homestead pulling up and inquiring of our caretaker. I asked if he was down at Stony Creek and if he had an accident or cut any limbs or had experienced a bleeding nose His immediate reaction was “no brother I haven’t been anywhere from the house’’.
When I looked back on the photos taken the pictures didn’t reveal any bloodstains on the granite escarpment whatsoever.
This was my introduction to my ancestors and the legend of Nimula and in a sense Cumbo Gunnerah, Red Kangaroo (Red Chief). It was as if the great Gunnedah Kamilaroi Warleader himself was saying:
“This is Kibbi’s resting place, this is your war leader. He, you should know!”
not alone
There is one other experience I would like to highlight to my fellow kinsman regarding our Old People and the occurrences of the battle that took place that day many years ago at Nimula | Bassendean | Tingha. Grave markers carrying potent messages to visitors coming unexpectedly to the burial place. Although I’ve been to this particular a number of times, even whilst filming this project I will share this experience for the sake of our audience if ever they are in this location.
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I had returned to country to undertake fire preparation of our scarred trees and heritage values. This particular morning brought about the discovery of graves and markers now exposed from overgrowth. As I approached I felt shivers run through my body. Stopping to investigate and walking to the grave site I found a column of stacked stones next to it. Another gravesite appeared to have remnants of a weapon in the undergrowth at the top of the grave. I had serious thoughts of its removal for cultural integrity and preservation against natural fire disasters . With much hesitancy I did exactly that and removed it from the site but not totally off country. When taking it back to my vehicle, I opened the door and the radio was playing, which I’m certain I switched off before exiting the car.
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Upon returning to the mounds and exploring the others on the ridge side I navigated back around circumnavigating the original parking spot and grave, finding more scattered throughout the surrounds of Nimula.
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I found a stumped scarred marker which is unusual for our area and decided to take a photo. But as I lifted my mobile to do so I saw out of the corner of my eye that my passenger side door to my car off in the distance was wide open. This gave an uneasy feeling.
Such happenings are attributed to spirits across many cultures. I was not sure if it was benevolent or whether it belonged to a troublesome person. This particular grave site strongly suggested that the warrior was not from surrounding districts but came from further away due to the differing nature in which their grave is marked.
finding relics
Being drawn back to country has been one journey that I'll never forget and given me first hand experiences.
It all began in the heart of the Undumbi lands of Kalowandha (Caloundra) at Bells Creek Pelican Waters in Golden Beach. I was invited to undertake a cultural heritage assessment from work colleagues who had noticed bark material unusually missing from an old tree.
On visiting the location in question I was able to identify it was in fact a Canoe tree. A few weeks later I returned to confirm the GPS coordinates of this tree. I noted on this second visit disturbances in the area after we had had torrential rain and high tidal periods. Finding my way out of the vegetation and walking along the canal channel bank something caught my eye to the left of me. On taking a closer look I saw a large sword shaped club dangling on the canal bank edge.
This is what is known as a Sabean Bundi Sword or battle axe. Its appearance is that of a large elbow sword angle bundi or club. An intimidating image with a pinpoint sharpened top edge. This is known as the Death Blow and is attributed to the Kamilaroi legend of Red Kangaroo (Cumbo Gunnerah).
THE WARNING
The old people or ancient ones that roamed this land in unison with the universe they enveloped in their everyday lives of sustainably, adaptive innovation, wisdom and knowledge. This must be respected.
Ultimate survival of ingenuity of first world science in their collective domain of ecosystems manipulated to remain in its naturalist form of creation. Being at one with the elements what we have to recognise as wisdom and knowledge appropriately procured and seeded and that has kept such places intact and that of objects materialised to perform the duties of life, weaponry, hunting, security in protection zones of kinships.
Both breathing and living in a highly valued spiritual essence in the landscape.
Shooting scenes for the film on Nimula was at first an ignorant excitement on my behalf realising and guiding Erin in cultural specifications and filming of significant values and certain areas to avoid filming was discussed.
However, my own discernment of such cultural matters were forgotten, such as ceremonial smoking before shooting or even the fact that I was so excited to present this knowledge to my people and the next generation.
That my own cultural obligation went to the wayside where I should have known well and truly better; I thoroughly enjoyed being a cultural director /Aboriginal war fighting arts choreographer .
But there are some things better left alone that occurred that day onset as it’s referred to and I’d rather keep it that way. The location we were filming on was the place of an ancient battlefield and where it took place, Nimula’s War Graves, depicting and playing dead my Warleader Kibbi or Warrior X as I’m now referring to him also as well , X representing the unknown.
In fact we could call Kibbi, Red kangaroo’s nemesis the X factor in this legend for we know little about him or obviously in his own right his exploits of bravery. Prior to leadership into this legendary battle.
But something became very real to Erin while finishing the last scene of battle; in which was the death scene. I was recreating the final death pose of our leader laying in the ancient battleground Nimula; eyes poised wide open. Erin expressed discomfort as the depiction appeared very real.
It was after this final shot and calling it a wrap that this darkening sky and thundering flowing winds through the tree canopy and branches emerged from the south and with it a terrifying violent crack of thunder. The dark grey lightning filled clouds as they rolled in were a beautiful display of nature's anger at its best.
“ What did I or we do wrong?” filed through my thoughts.. Nimula The Pinch or “ Place Where It Happened ` is an imbued site of cultural set of values, knowledge that holds within its realm a powerful code of cultural practice ,protocols and ancient ways of Kybra and Warriorship.
Thrust in Bunawangens Dreaming legends of Songlines and Warriors of renown cast into Jukenbul (Ucumble) and Kamilaroi and districts folklore. A place of reckoning, a place of War, honour, bravery, morals, forgiveness, compassion, reconciling, love and mourning founded in traditional lore.
This is the lesson I received on leaving filming that day and the storm that's brewed.
careful where you walk
Tamworth’s Warleader Illpara’s fate, has suffered at the hands of our Jukenbul (Ucumble) Warriors was a most devastating act of defensive violence.
And one that is known to be reputed to the Ucumble men; this being that we were renown marksman and expert spearmen in the diaspora of Aboriginal Australia.
This death to which Illpara has fallen was by a spear through the throat. Thrown by whom remains a mystery known only to those who fought and died on that particular day of battle and lost in the oral legends of the late night campfires and Corroborees across the landscape. This death though was one not well reciprocated by Illpara.
Firstly discovering Nimula it was apparent to me that this place has an essence of spiritual dynamics; I’ve come to acknowledge that our elderly Aboriginal community of Tingha have always said that the trees at Stony Creek shiver in the winds as spirits move through them. On entry into Stony Creek walking among the lomandra with a calming noise of waterflow a windy gust of hollows sung out eerily through the She oak canopies. Although on this first expedition I didn’t discover Illparra”s place of burial but rather after a few revisits and much to my surprise I stumbled directly upon a number of battle mounds.
On the first occasion I was myself while circumnavigating the defined war ground and further evidence south of the Stony Creek bend as I wandered along the creek bank shelf I came to a dead log lying near a scarred tree to the right of me and it immediately caught my attention. Carefully I approached the log and stepped over it. My left foot landed without fault and yet I suffered a pain like that of a sprained or rolled ankle . I immediately exclaimed “That’s unbelievably freakish” “How’s that possible’?’ “ Only you Wayne Only you” . I hobbled on for a few more hours.
This occurrence wasn’t thought of again until a visit with an artist originally engaged to do artwork for the visual aspects of telling of this story. In our outing that day guiding her through Nimula at the very same location she experienced the very same outcome when trying to negotiate the log even with my prior warning to be careful.
While stepping over the log, again the symptoms prevailed the same as I had experienced, only this time while explaining a scarred tree to the artist.
A scarred tree on the lower shelf of the creekside caught my eye! I filed its away and upon visiting again this time with my younger brother, this specific log and site became again the place of an acute sprained or rolled ankle. Only this day The Red Kangaroo buck appeared before my younger brother Quention and he alerted me to the fact we were being watched.
Revisiting Nimula again, venturing on my own I took extra precaution of this specific area noting the scarring. This particular visit with much now known knowledge I walked towards the lower scarred tree only to find myself walking on a mound of cairns; shockingly I knew straight away what they were - burial mounds that were engineered as I’ve seen done before of our old people.
This discovery placed the events of the battle into full tangibility of the warzone of Nimula . It is the place where Illparra was speared and was laid to rest .
His tragic fate at this particular burial mound is one that was both shocking as it was swift; one could only imagine the spear through his neck, sending him backwards to be pegged to the creek bank of stony creek.
These spears used in a manner with craftsmanship are known as an invisible spear; so swift and fast it’snot audible until it hits its mark.
Nimula is a place of spiritual dynamics and Illparra’s grave marker is only one. As the ancestors of old maintain Aboriginal people responded to traditional beliefs and transposed them to events taking place in their community.
Grave markers carrying serious messages and can be naturally occurring objects; it serves as a potent message to visitors coming unexpectedly to the burial place.
Ochre may be placed to indicate the gender of the person;other signs may indicate whether the spirit that remains is benevolent or whether it belongs to a troublesome deceased person.
TIME STANDS STILL FOR THE LIVING TOO
This will be a general summary of events referring to the Elder above and my first hand experiences, as it remains our Mens Business for those descendants and those perhaps aspirants. All matters contained here within it is an area totally to be respected and out of bounds of all that has no initiation authority entering. Including myself which was by misadventure that day.
This high degree initiation is one that I don’t think will ever be capable of properly reaching without the proper knowledge holder and must be respected in such a manner. Where the Elder “King Jimmy - Old Combo ‘Jerry’ practised this in the past an area of ceremonial purposes for people with or entering this degree of knowledge.
What briefly I’ll discuss is that day out in that particular area was a hairy experience.
Entering around a certain gravesite and certain scarred and carved trees; again photo happy with the mobile phone I had proceeded to take such pictures but as I reaised my phone before I had a chance to scroll to the camera icon and click my screen went black, despite being 98% charged.
I believe a young woman, Ahnora, the daughter of the Brouns; a colonist owner who once also misadventured here on a horse that had been frightened . And had thrown her. This account isdetailed in her poem penned circa 1870 titled “King Jimmy - old Cumbo".
My misadventure was not one of being thrown; but in that moment all became hollow, time frighteningly stood still, all nature's sounds ceased as if someone had suddenly pressed pause, the silence pressed in around me.
It is here that a translucent quartz pebble would be place which would have been taken from a river by a powerful person and used during their lifetime as their token and would be left within or on their grave. It warns that the spirit of a powerful person is in the area. The rest I will not share in the public domain but respectively for those of our ancestors Mens Business.