The River's Warning

The River’s Warning

For millennia, Aboriginal folk have explored the relationship between the land, the people and the animals. Our totems, or our ‘spirit animals’ (so to speak), are our protectors. We must never eat or harm them. A lot of the time, our totems are like our guardian angels, forever watching over us in this life and the next.

There is a story in our family where my dad, being a man from the Gamillaraay (Kamilaroi) clan, had a recurring dream. It has turned into a ‘Familial Dreamtime Story’, one where the river and its creatures created a warning, a siren for trouble that was brewing during my workplace at the time.

…

I am fishing along a long and winding river. Stranded in the middle on a raised sand bank, I am somehow oblivious within a bask of crocodiles. Some were small and some were of a size that could swallow me whole. The river is brown and murky; everything is unclear to me, just like the water. It is whilst fishing I notice the crocodiles getting thicker and more aggressive. Clearly congregating ready to have their morsel of human flesh. The largest of the crocodiles lay 7 metres long, his scarred and ancient body rippling among the mud and mangroves. He lifts his head, bearing his yellowed teeth, “look at this girl! How stupid of her to fish in the middle of our river!”

For some reason I remain grounded, unable to see the congregation of man eaters making their way towards me. The closer they got, the less aware I became. Before too long there were hundreds of crocodiles all snapping in anticipation, keen to rip me limb from limb.

“Hey Erin, move over to the other bank…”

“What?”

“Move…now… you need to hide in those trees away from all these crocs.”

I look down and see a small crocodile, barely longer than my forearm, nudging me with its snout. The small crocodile appeared female. She was small but had many scars over her course skin. Badges of battles won.

How did this small croc survive among all these big ones? How was she not eaten?

“I don’t want to leave you, you’ll be eaten!” My voice was squeaky, I was unlike myself. Feeling the pressure of danger closing in, I began to panic but still did not move.

“I’m ok, I’m one of them, they know to leave me alone. You are in danger here, you must move… you must move now!”

With her warning I suddenly had the strength the move. My legs, once heavy and stuck in the mud were now nimble and agile. The crocodiles launched themselves at me, every which way, snapping and turning their bodies in grotesque shapes. Their claws were scraping, desperately trying to push each other out of the way…who would get the first bite? Leaping like a bullfrog I narrowly dodged their jaws, stepping on hardened skin as I moved. Their anger was immediate.

“Get her, get her now!” CRUNCH! SPLASH! CRACK!

Quick like a flash I made my way across the crocs, using their bodies as my moving bridge.

“Go Erin! Go now into the bush there, go fishing where you can’t be seen!” The little croc yelled out, her small yet flexible tail swishing and disappearing into the murky water. She easily avoided all the other crocs now swearing and slashing at each other showing their clear disgust.

Taking on her final warning I stayed in the bushes, covered by mangroves and leafy terrain. The crocs could no longer see me. They swam up and down the dirty river, swearing, angry that their meal had gotten away. They never got me, and they never got the little crocodile.

…

This story came about at a time when I was experiencing harassment and bullying in the workplace. My dad, being my greatest mentor and friend, would often console me over the phone before and after work; hearing my pain through the receiver. It was after he had this dream multiple times that he recited it to me, and we soon figured out its contents. The crocodiles trying to eat me were the heads of department and senior employees desperate to cut me down, desperate to rip me apart. The better I did at work, the worse it got. I was ‘out in the middle of the river’, an easy target for those wanting me gone. Easy pickings for these ‘old crocs’. The little crocodile, clearly an accomplice and friendly co-worker was telling me to ‘hide’ to stay away to be safe from these horrible river creatures. I took this to mean that I needed to keep my distance, not try and integrate and to keep my head down.

I no longer work in this place (thankfully) and have since moved on to greater things. But I will never forget the little crocodile and her wise words through my father. His dream had come at such a good time, and through its interpretation we have experienced our totems looking out for us. Keeping their mob safe. 

I would like to acknowledging and pay my respects to the Traditional Custodians of the land (in particular to my mob the Gamillaraay people of south west Queensland and North-west of New South Wales). I would like to pay my respects to the Elders, past, present and emerging, and acknowledge and extend this respect to all Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders. It is important to me to pay my respects to all Elders, past, present and emerging, regardless of mob or country.

I pay my respect for their continuation of our culture and the contributions they make to country and community.

We respect the land, the animals and waterways from the roots of the earth to the tops of the trees.

A better understanding and respect for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander cultures develops an enriched appreciation of Australia’s cultural heritage and will lead to reconciliation. This is essential to the maturity of Australia as a nation and fundamental to the development of the Australian identity.