Background
Each chapter is complete in itself. Each subject tells its own story.
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Pointing the bone is a practice not used today because of its dire consequences. Way back in the days of tribal magic, pointing the bone at an enemy meant that the intended victim of the Shaman was bound to die.
Back in the 1930's there was a well documented case of a white man being sung to death by aboriginal magic. The Shaman was much like a witch doctor, feared by all the tribal members. The leg bone of a small marsupial, such as a wallaby (small kangaroo) or even a large leg bone of an adult kangaroo that had been specially treated with magic spells, was used to point at the intended victim.
The white man stole the wife of a tribal member and the husband paid the Shaman to cast the death spell on him - the white man laughed at the spell and as the chanting began...he fell ill and was dead within six months.
Fear of having the bone pointed at you was part of the spell cast. Being white, the man who stole the aboriginal's wife; thought himself immune. Do we believe in magic? The tribes in those days were terrified of the Shaman (sorcerer.)
Tribal aboriginals hunt and fish their sacred lands in the Northern Territory of Australia. It has taken many years for the white man to hand back their tribal lands and finally say "Sorry."
The First Australians cared for the land and its animals. Animals were only killed for food and before the animal (mostly kangaroo) was speared to death - it was asked by the hunter to give up its spirit. Much like the American Indians, ceremonies were common.
Most cultures (except whites) have sorcerers or witch doctors. Going back 3,000 years to the time of the Egyptians - it was common practice for the Pharaoh to consult the court magician on matters that pertained to the safety of the court or the telling of fortunes. If we look back at the time of Moses, he was asking Pharaoh to let his people go - Moses turned his staff into a snake.
BONE MAGIC : -
The house of horrors sat arrogantly on a hill above the baanya (camp) of the Bindaloo tribe. The mighty Murray River snaked its way past the camp as the tribe fished it's waters for barramundi (large fish.)
The days of tranquil living on their own sacred land was over; white men had taken control of the tribes and made them slaves.
The Rev. John McLeod sat on his wide verandas sipping his wine and watching the black women washing white-man's clothes in the river. Aboriginal people wore no clothes in those days - women covered their nakedness with kangaroo pelts; purely as a gesture of modesty. The men wore nothing except a plaid belt to carry flint knives, boomerangs (throwing sticks) - or to attach dead game to the belt.
When the whites invaded our country, the blacks were trusting just like little children; cruel and arrogant slave masters soon changed our peoples' way of life. They were made to wear white man's clothing which soon chafed their perfect skin. The whites needed hats and long pants to work in the fields because they were not used to our intense sunlight that virtually cooked their skin. Blacks never saw the need for such frivolity and grinned at the white man. Shoes were provided, causing blisters to the feet. Aboriginals never wore shoes. Finally, the shoes were thrown away because they hindered their ability to work in the vegetable gardens for the white man. Even today, the blacks of the Northern Territory have bare feet - calloused from walking and hunting their lands. Custom made shoes that never wear out!
The Rev. John McLeod was a hypocrite. He taught the children and young people of the Bindaloo tribe how to worship a man on a cross - thinking them savages that had to be brought to Jesus. If anything, the people were more spiritual in their own ways of worship. They looked to Baiame, Great Spirit, for guidance - every living animal and tree was sacred to them. Whilst hunting kangaroo - they would ask the kangaroo to give up it's spirit because they needed the meat to feed their family. They never killed for fun. They took only what they needed.
On the other hand, the whites took everything, pretending that they had the right to kill man or beast. Every day the men from the Bindaloo tribe were chained together and marched out to the fields. They were made to hoe the fields for the planting of vegetables to feed the whites.
At harvest time, the men were harnessed to carts and used like donkeys to bring the vegetables back to McLeod's home.
The children were separated from their mothers and made attend school. McLeod thought them stupid - he tried in vain to teach them English. The tribe was far more advanced in caring for the land and at that time there were 10,000 dialects around Australia of the Aboriginal tongue. Still, they waited for their freedom. They knew the power of the 'fire-stick' - rifles that the overseers carried.
One night, right on sundown, McLeod got it into his head to go and pick a ripe peach (as he called the young women) he was drunk as a skunk.
He stumbled down the hill to where the women were cooking dinner. Pointing his rifle at a beautiful woman - he said "You! Come here - you black bitch."
The older women wailed and the men stared in horror, they were unable to stop the 'Boss - Cocky.' His rifle was loaded.
Maraboo, wife of Bindar, stepped forward, she knew what the enraged white man wanted.
The Rev. John McLeod dragged Maraboo by the hair, screaming obscenities at him in pigeon English; she had no choice - she had to accept her fate - rape was on his menu this night.
After McLeod had his fun with Maraboo he slapped her silly and kicked her down the front stairs. She half-hobbled, half - staggered down to her people. Her lip split and her body bruised, cracked ribs crunched every time she moved.
Bindar (husband of Maraboo) was livid when he saw his young wife. She was being nursed by the women and her pain was terrible.
Bindar approached Wurrung, wise-man and sorcerer. He took fresh meat and lay it in front of Wurrung's gunyah (lean-to home) then he sat and waited.
The carcase of a freshly killed kangaroo was payment for a bone - pointing spell. Still Bindar waited. The old sorcerer was slow to move and yet he was lightning fast in bringing enemies down with his powerful spells.
Eventually, Wurrung dragged the carcase into his gunyah.
"Who do you want made dead to this world, Bindar?" Wurrung coughed and spat.
"White man rape my wife - he must die!"
That night the men danced a death dance for the boss man that raped Maraboo and for the cruelty heaped upon their tribe.
McLeod listened to the chanting coming from the camp below his house. He stood up and watched the flames from their fire light the night sky.
Picking up his rifle he made his way slowly down the hill towards the corroboree. Even though he was the boss man of the slaves - he was hesitant to go any closer to the group that were dancing around the ring of stones - the men's blood was up and their faces showed much anger.
Suddenly, McLeod was grabbed from behind and relieved of his rifle. The men marched him towards Wurrung the sorcerer. Wurrung was dressed in a full length kangaroo pelt that hung from his shoulders to the ground. His frail body was painted with symbols of his position as tribal elder and medicine man.
The chanting grew to fever pitch as two men held McLeod in the middle of the stone circle.
In halting English Wurrung spoke to the condemned man:
"You have raped Maraboo, wife of Bindar. Now you must pay for the sins that you have committed." Wurrung's eyes glinted in the fire light as he pointed the enchanted bone at McLeod.
"You silly old fool, do you think that you can hurt me with your childish ways?"
Within six months, Rev. John McLeod was dead. He fell into a coma and no white doctor had any idea what was wrong with the man.
Aboriginal lore is ancient. Even today the elders teach strict lessons for those who break their lore. Rev. John McLeod deserved what he got!
