The eerie wailing blew with the desert winds across the indigenous community at Hooker Creek. As the sounds became louder and clearer I pictured in my mind's eye what I knew to be happening. The wailing would be accompanied by the stripping of one's clothes and 'sorry' cutting. This ritual included hitting one's head with rocks, slashing one's thighs with knives and generally inflicting pain upon yourself as a true sign that you were genuinely sorry for the death that had recently occurred. While the rite was primarily ceremonial it was often taken to excess and serious injuries were inflicted. Already folk were gathering at the hospital for treatment with the deceased having been taken there just a little while before. I was the Superintendent of the community and as I arrived two older men asked if they could take some of the deceased's hair for ceremonial purposes. The nursing sister had no objections and so some was reverently taken.
It transpired the deceased was drunk and had been taunting a man called Jungurai about his lack of sexual prowess.
Eventually the taunting went too far and a brawl developed during which time a sharpened nulla-nulla was produced with the deceased expiring immediately when the weapon smashed into his skull. The perpetrator Jungurai judged discretion to be the better part of valour at this point and disappeared into the bush opting to stay there until emotions had cooled and sanity prevailed.

It had been a harrowing, sleepless night and as I walked towards the office the next day I felt totally washed out with little desire to face any further drama. I dreamed of lounging beside a swimming pool, a cool can of Coke in hand and total relaxation in mind.

Arriving at the office my dreaming was interrupted when I saw Jungurai about 100 metres away walking purposefully towards me with something in hands. As he got closer I realised he was carrying a coolamon basket full of a wide array of traditional weapons. I could see nulla-nullas, boomerangs and murderous looking spears and at that moment I see with perfect clarity what is going on. He is going to kill me!!
Time did not stand still at the moment but it went awfully close. He was walking in slow motion, one deliberate step after another.
Every organ in my body designed to operate when I was afraid worked in perfect unison at that moment. My right leg started to shake uncontrollably. I tried to light a cigarette but couldn't. My bladder screamed for release.

He started to get closer and I noticed he smiled. Or was it a leer? Or a maniacal grin? Then, as if to confirm the sealing of my fate I started to see a newsreel of my life rolling out before me. Nothing of any note was on it. Thought I to myself 'What a boring 22 years I have lived' No controversies (except for a few cricket dismissals). Nothing spectacular done. Apart from my immediate family who will miss me when I'm gone?'
He was getting even closer and he started to audibly laugh. Or was it the devil's chuckle I heard?

My thoughts suddenly focussed. I will ask him when he kills me to make it quick. You did it last night to another so why not me? Then I thought I would like to die bravely. Therefore I shall do as Queen Victoria said 'Close your eyes and think of England'. What could be nobler than that?
Jungurai stopped a nulla-nulla's length away. In an instant I was back into reality. I looked at him and he looked at me. With the cool zephyr breeze caressing my face Jungurai blurted ' Maluka I surrender' and handed all his weapons over to me.
I had been saved by about a tenth of a second from making an absolute fool of myself because I was just about to ask him to kill me quickly. Instead, I asked him to repeat what he had just said. He stated that he was surrendering. On the outside I now had control of the situation. On the inside however I was a gibbering mess. I asked him further why he had been laughing. He simply said that he was happy because he was safe. He knew that the white man would protect him, give him a fair trial and maybe make him serve some time in jail. This was far preferable to what would happen to him under tribal law.
When I had him safely ensconced in the office in the care of other staff I took one of the nulla-nullas (one without blood and bone on it) to a big tree behind the office. I then conjured up in my mind a picture of Jungurai, and particularly of his head. Placing this image on the tree I then proceeded to belt the daylights out of it. As I landed blows I screamed abuse at him.

How dare you scare me like that? Surrendering when you were going to kill me. Smiling and laughing at me because you knew were safe. What about me? You're safe and I'm the one who's the basket case. A pox upon you!! May your toenails grow eternally inward and never heal!! So it went on until I could lift the nulla-nulla no more. I then stopped and collapsed on the ground crying like a baby.

I composed myself shortly afterwards and became the government official again. Organising three of the most trusted indigenous men in the community we formed an armed escort and took the offender into Katherine. Eventually he was sent to trial in Darwin and was sentenced to three years imprisonment after having been convicted of manslaughter.

And me? Over the years I faced many of these stressful situations. They had a cumulative effect that eventually led to my suffering depression and its bedfellows. Yet on reflection my suffering pales in comparison to the fact that I lived to tell this tale and for that I am grateful.