The Dreamtime

So far on our wanderings through the words of history, we have seen much that is old, from a previous era of existence. The lore of Greece, Rome, Egypt and India has indeed witnessed the rise and fall of many great powers since the ink was wet on their pages. Now we look to a culture that is truly ancient. Older than the pyramids, older than the first cities of Mesopotamia, older than the stories of the Greeks, and coming into existence forty thousand years before the first stone was laid upon the Seven Hills of Rome. This is a way of life which has truly endured the passage of time. This is the culture of the indigenous peoples of Australia.



Paintings of the Tjukurpa - The Dreamtime
Photograph taken by the author.

The stories, customs and languages of the indigenous Australians, called Aborigines by the Europeans, are as varied as the land they dwell in. Hardly surprising for an island one could fit almost all Europe inside. Yet all are united by a common, powerful link with the land itself, along with its flora and fauna. Stories are passed down from generation by spoken word, and have been so for thousands of years. Even within one people, the legends vary immensely. For me to write of the legends of Uluṟu (a Pitjantjatjara word of the Anangu people, known in English as Ayer's Rock), Australia's most famous landmark, would take a lifetime to detail its infinite variations. For this reason, I will write of just one, that told by the Anangu people, who have lived alongside the great rock since ancient times.

Uluṟu - born of the Dreamtime
Photograph taken by the author.

In a time before time, the world was a flat, barren and lifeless plain. No mountains burst forth to the skies, no rivers snaked through the land, no trees rustled in the winds, no birds soared in the clouds, no animal life was sustained by the land. It was an endless desert, serene in its tranquility. This was the Dreamtime. The 'Tjukurpa', The Anangu call it in the Pitjantjatjara language. Time came to pass once when the spirits of the Dreamtime stirred, rising from their earthly slumber. There was no name for the forms they assumed when they awoke, for each was different. Some were as men today, some as the mighty trees, some as the desert reptiles, some as docile creatures that man would one day hunt, yet some too of forms no living man today could name. For a time, the spirits were as men are today. They sat around fires, they took the new water from the land, they danced, they sang and they fought. The spirits undertook great journeys across the land, giving shape to the world as they traversed its vast plain. Where they made shelter, the mountains arose, where they dug their staffs into the plain, the trees rose, and where they ground their corn, great boulders were left behind. There was a time however, when the spirits grew violent. In the central desert, a great battle stained the land with its blood, and the Earth rose is grief. So was born Uluṟu.

The Mala Wati
Photograph taken by the author.

Many ages passed, when many of the old spirits had turned to stone over the passage of time. The men of today are their descendants, a living legacy of the continuum of the Dreamtime. There came a time when two boys, hunting in the desert plains, came across mighty Uluṟu. They saw the Mala People gathered around a rock hole on the northern face of Uluṟu, who were preparing some kind of ceremony. The two boys were curious, being not versed in the rites of men, and looked on. The Mala were preparing for the ceremony of the Inma, and planted a pole in Uluṟu. The next morning, strangers of another people appeared on the endless horizon. They were friendly and invited the Mala to their own Inma. All the things of the Mala people had to be done in the proper manner, be it hunting, collecting water or communicating. The Mala told the strangers from the West that they could not join their Inma, for they could not interrupt their ceremony. The strangers withdrew, furious at the insult to their hospitality. The Mala continued to prepare for the Inma, as some of their number searched for food at Taputji. A staff they used to dig for food can still be seen by men today, though it has long since become stone. Soon however, horror ensued. A vengeful spirit appeared on the horizon, bounding toward the Mala foragers. The spirit was as a great black hound - Kurpany. Kurpany pounced, slaying man, woman and child, staining the land once again with blood. The remains of the fallen Mala can still be seen today on Uluṟu, standing high above the plain on its northern face, called the Mala Wati.

Artilla - resting place of the two boys
Photograph taken by the author.

Whilst the Mala had been preparing the Inma, the two boys had been playing, mixing earth and water to create mud. Sliding down the south face of Uluṟu, they dragged their muddy fingers along the rock, leaving trails in their wake which can be seen by men today, though they have long since become stone. The two boys hid to avoid Kurpany's murderous wrath in the many clefts and gouges of Uluṟu, until the demon's bloodlust was sated at last. Terrified, the boys went out into the desert, desperate to seek water. Moving north, they came to the slopes of another great mountain, called today 'Artilla' by the Anangu (known in English as Mount Connor). In frustration, one of the boys hurled his club at a nearby wallaby. The club sailed past the animal, and embedded in the plain. But where it struck the land, water gurgled up from the subterranean realm. The boy was delighted at the new spring, and slaked his thirst. The other boy later asked where he had found the water they sought, but he refused to tell him, for the boy was selfish. In a rage, the other boy hurled himself upon his follower, and the two fought upon the slopes of the mountain, until they both were upon the summit. Collapsing to blood loss and thirst, the two boys died, and can still be seen today by men, though their bodies have long since become as stone...

The Dreamtime is one of the few stories shared as a common heritage between the indigenous peoples of Australia, and is arguably one of, if not the oldest story ever told. What followed the awakening of the spirits is never the same amongst the countless peoples, but this is the story according to the Anangu, who have preserved this tale for tens of thousands of human years...

The culture of the indigenous Australians is told through voice and not book, so the closest you can come to seeking the original thing is to travel to Australia and hear it for yourself, or see it painted upon the many rock faces which populate the continent. Here, however, are two quite good books available from Amazon which retell some of the aboriginal stories, the first being very nicely illustrated:

United Kingdom

Dreamtime Traditions
Voices of the First Day: Awakening in the Aboriginal Dreamtime (Inner Traditions)
(Very nicely illustrated, and bursting with content - recommended)

Aboriginal Mythology
Aboriginal Myths, Legends and Fables
(A different approach which tries to capture the 'campfire' nature of the stories)

United States

Dreamtime Traditions
Voices of the First Day: Awakening in the Aboriginal Dreamtime (Inner Traditions)
(Very nicely illustrated, and bursting with content - recommended)

Aboriginal Mythology
Aboriginal Myths, Legends and Fables
(A different approach which tries to capture the 'campfire' nature of the stories)