“A few nights?” I say, trying to look happy. But all I’m thinking of is how Addy’ll cope if I’m not there. How’ll he get fed?
Len grins and tells me I’ll have a great time. I’ll learn to spear fish and hunt goannas, like a proper Blackfella kid. “Them lizards are good eating — easy to catch if you sneak up behind them, before they’ve warmed up proper. Just grab their tail and whack, hit their head on a tree before they can do anything about it.” I think of Addy and feel sick, but I just smile.
That night, I find Addy’s been scratching the door with his thumb claw. If he keeps going, it’ll be sawdust. And he makes a noise that means he’s hungry, so I gotta get him more food. Getting sick of that park, but what can I do? Dad and Len have a laugh when I go past with a stack of branches. “Got plenty of them on Jamorjah,” Len calls out. This time I don’t say nothing about my dinosaur. I’m starting to worry they might believe in him for real.
If I leave a stack of branches in my room, he might have enough to last him when I’m on Jamorjah. I’ll come back to a huge pile of shit, but that’s ok. Then I hear Em telling Dad she don’t wanna go to Jamorjah Island for his initiation. Wants time to herself, no babysitting. Bugger! I can’t leave Addy home with her; she’d find him.
Addy curls up on my pillow and drops off quick. I lie awake, thinking how I can keep him safe if I go. If I can’t keep him secret now, what’s gonna happen when he gets bigger? He don’t deserve getting hassled by TV people and cut up by scientists.
Jamorjah Island’s got no tourists. No houses or shops either, just bush and hills and beaches. No toilets — you gotta dig a hole. Not much water, just one bore left from the days someone tried to farm there, so no bath! Blackfellas come when they want to do traditional stuff, and go when they’re sick of it. Sometimes heaps of families camp there, sometimes nobody at all. Some rich Whitefella gave it back to the traditional owners years ago. No Whitefellas allowed to stick their noses in no more.
We heard stories about Blackfellas telling Whitefellas about sacred rock art or burial sites, and the Whitefellas promising that, no, they wouldn’t never disturb it. Next thing you know, a bunch of arche-whatevers come dig it up and reckon it belongs in a museum. Like it’s not important to today’s Blackfellas. So Blackfellas know to keep their mouths shut.
Len’s taken Dad and me to the island a few times, to learn the dances and stories, the sorts of things Dad’s dad woulda taught us. Plenty stories and secrets we don’t know. Dad reckons we don’t even know a tenth of them. He won’t hear ‘em all till he’s a proper Jamorjah man either.
Jamorjah would be perfect for Addy. It’s empty a lot of the time. It’s rocky and hilly, so there’s plenty shelter. I can keep training him till he knows to hide from footsteps. But the grownups would probably say no to a dinosaur living there, even if they know to keep him secret. So I gotta sneak him there. Best of all, I’ll get to visit.
And then I get an idea about how to get him there without nobody knowing.
We set off real early Friday morning. Dad, me, Len and some others who are part of the initiation.
I nearly stop breathing when Dad takes my huge backpack to load it on the boat. Addy’s hidden in there, sitting on loads of cold soft-drink cans to keep him cool. My clothes are packed all around to keep the cold in, and to keep his head up near the opening, so’s he can breathe.
“You got rocks in there?” Dad groans.
“Nah, packed lots to drink, like you said.” Then I had a thought: “Why do people bring water in summer; don’t they try to live traditional?”
Len answers for him. “They was nomads, went to shore in the dry season when the water’s dried out. We do some traditional things, just to keep the culture going. But some things we do modern like. Culture’s gotta change so it don’t go completely extinct.”
We’re in an ancient runabout, and the guy driving meets the waves to make the boat jump. Smack — water sprays everywhere. Funny the first time, but I soon reckon my breakfast won’t stay in. The backpack’s sitting on the floor, and I hug it. Lean my head on top. The others on the boat are talking and laughing. Too busy to notice that I undo the zip a crack to let air in.Can see his face, eyes shut. Haven’t felt him wriggle, so I hope he’s ok. I feel too yuk to do anything, and shut my eyes. This trip is the worst ever.
When we get to Jamorjah, my legs are shaky and I’m sticky. Addy woulda had a worse time than me, squashed in the backpack, so I stop feeling sorry for myself. I tell everyone I wanna have a walk by myself, and head into the bush with my huge pack on. Once nobody can see me, I check on him. Still breathing. All sleepy with cold, he looks worse than I feel. I take the cans out, have a drink. Dump my stuff and carry him against my chest.
I go along the dry riverbed. The bush is real thick, easy to get lost if you don’t know where the track is. I just keep saying, “Don’t stop, nearly there,” till I get to the waterhole. It’s a muddy puddle right now, but in a hidden valley. With all the training I done, he’ll probably hide
