The Legend Of Kupirri, Or, The Red Kangaroo

"At evening, Boston Bay shimmered beneath the fading light. Long shadows crept across the water and darkened the distant islets, while beyond Cape Catastrophe the setting sun scattered gold across the waves. The sky burned with colour, and enormous clouds rose in solemn ranks before dissolving into violet and crimson.

On the beach, the waves splashed among the pebbles, filling every inlet and hollow with murmurs and silver spray. The scrub swayed gently in the breeze, and the she-oaks whispered like mourners bidding the day farewell. Along the horizon, the hills darkened as twilight gathered.

Near one of those hills, beside a clear, bubbling stream, the tribe had made its camp. Their *wurleys* stood within a grove of wattles. The warriors were away hunting: some spearing fish along the coast where Koonta’s mysterious river met the sea, some stalking emu across the plains, and others searching for game among the reeds and scrub.

In the camp, the children played at war. Divided into rival bands, they shouted threats in shrill voices, brandished toy spears and waddies, and charged one another across the open ground. Their mothers watched them with amusement.

Later, the women returned from the hills in single file, carrying roots, herbs and wallaby. They dropped their burdens beside the huts, called for their children, and settled down to gossip while they waited for the hunters. They spoke of quarrels at the last *corroboree*, of jealousy, sorcery and scandal; of sacred food eaten by mistake; of spirits with enormous bellies and snake-like hair; and of Paune, who had escaped a sorcerer by hiding among the reeds—becoming a bird by night and a bush by day.

Before long, voices sounded in the distance. The hunters emerged from the darkness, each carrying game and boasting of his skill. The women admired the great kangaroos and fat emus they had brought home, praising the power of Manurapindoo.

Soon the camp was busy. The women dug a pit and lined it with leaves and heated stones, preparing the earth oven. When the meal was cooked and eaten, everyone greased their bodies, relaxed beside the fires, and exchanged stories of hunting, warfare, magic and narrow escapes.

Among them was Purley, the most celebrated storyteller of all. He was famous throughout the tribes as a hunter, warrior and wise *burka*, and no one could equal him in song or dance. The people gathered around him: the boys sat in front, the elders behind, and all listened with bright, expectant eyes.

Night settled over the camp. The fires glimmered in rows, and mournful songs drifted through the darkness—some to ease pain, others to soothe troubled spirits. The singers recalled ancient journeys, sacred waterholes and the dead who had been loved and lost.

At last a young man asked Purley to explain the deepest mysteries: the First and the Last, the spirits invoked by the *burkas*, the meaning of their magic weapons, and the reason they looked so often toward the setting sun.

But the great Uwinda interrupted him.

“Tell us instead of Inda and Pilla,” he said, “and of the famous hunt in which they defeated the Red Kangaroo.”

The people crowded closer around the *wurley*. Purley fell silent for a moment, then began.

## The Tale of Inda and Pilla

“In the distant past, when the world was young, our people lived upon the Wonga Plain, stretching southward to the sea. We were prosperous and powerful. Game filled our nets, fish crowded our waters, and our weapons and tools were richer than those of any neighbouring tribe.

“We were the greatest people in the north and west. Our enchantments never failed, and our enemies trembled whenever they heard our spears rattling. We were victorious in every hunt and battle.

“Yet, in spite of our strength, our numbers began to diminish. Whenever the tribe went hunting, one or two people failed to return. No one could discover the cause. Death seemed to be stalking our people, and no hunter was safe.

“At last we organised a great search. We scoured the scrub, swamps and plains, looking for an enemy or some evil power. Near Nilarro, we found the answer.

“Without warning, a monstrous creature sprang upon us. Four men were knocked to the ground at once. This was no ordinary kangaroo, for instead of eating grass, it devoured men. Our hunters could not raise a spear or *wirri* against it. The creature struck them down with its enormous tail, scattering the survivors in terror.

“The people fled homeward, abandoning their shields and weapons. They feared everything—the rustle of grass, a tree stump, even an ordinary stone. In the camp, the women cut their arms and beat their breasts while they cried, ‘My son! My brother! My friend!’

“The *burkas* tried every spell they knew, but the monster remained. At last the people invoked the spirits of earth and sky. The *warra warra* declared that victory would belong to whoever dared confront the beast.

“Then Inda and his brother Pilla stepped forward.

‘We will go,’ they said. ‘Even if we never return, we will either die or defeat Kupirri, the Red Kangaroo.’

“They prepared themselves with great care. Their bodies were painted with sacred dots, stripes and lines, and they adorned themselves with feathers, bones and teeth. They carried shields, spears, *waddies*, *kyahs*, *wommeras*, *kuttas* and the mysterious *Paityowattas*. They knew the ancient curses that could bring any bird, beast or fish under a hunter’s power.

“Under the bright sun, the brothers set out. Behind them rose the cries and laments of the tribe. They travelled steadily through the heat and scrub until night fell, then camped upon a barren, stony height, repeating their spells before they slept.

“At dawn, Mount Nilarro appeared before them—vast, bare and forbidding. Its gullies were steep and deep, and a silent stream wound through the shadows from some hidden spring. The brothers ate little and spoke less. They watched the land closely, searching every hollow and ridge.

“Another night passed, filled with fearful dreams of Kupirri. Still they continued, half courageous and half afraid, armed with their magic words and determined to destroy the beast.

“At last, in a deep gully, they saw him.

“Kupirri lay asleep. His enormous tail moved restlessly, his great ears twitched, and his terrible mouth opened wide as he breathed. The brothers stood staring at him, their courage almost failing.

“But the monster did not wake. They began their attack.

“First they struck him with the blood of initiation, with eagle feathers, sacred girdles and other enchanted objects. They spoke their strongest curses, but Kupirri merely slept. Their spears flew through the air and struck him, yet he only shook his ears.

“Inda seized the long *uwinda* and stepped forward. With a mighty thrust, he struck the monster and sent him sprawling. Pilla followed, beating Kupirri with his *wirri*. The beast groaned and struggled to rise, but the enchantment held him fast.

“Then the brothers tried the blood-stained *warpoo*. They crept close and attacked again, but even standing beside the panting creature they could not pierce his hide.

“Suddenly, disaster came—not from Kupirri, but from the brothers themselves. Inda and Pilla began to quarrel. Their anger grew until they turned upon each other and nearly fought to the death.

“At last their fury exhausted itself. They recognised their madness and stopped. At that very moment, the earth began to tremble. Kupirri was waking.

“The brothers seized their weapons and renewed the attack. They struck together with all their strength. The Red Kangaroo groaned, thrashed and shook the mountain, but at last he collapsed and died.

“His death was terrible. His immense body writhed in agony, and the brothers stood horrified as the final monster of Kupirri’s kind breathed his last. The ground where he fell was blackened and torn, and for that reason hunters rarely return there.

“Inda and Pilla leapt for joy. They danced around the body and began to divide their prey. Then they made a shocking discovery: Kupirri had eaten the companions who had disappeared on the earlier hunt. Their bodies lay within him.

“The brothers placed the dead men apart and used their magic to restore them to life. When their companions rose again, all of them gathered around the fallen monster. They ate the choicest parts of Kupirri and covered their bodies with his fat, rejoicing in their revenge.

“Then they returned to the Wonga Plain, carrying the meat and speaking with the men who had only just come back from death. When the plain appeared, they struck their shields and raised their spears. The tribe rushed out to meet them.

“Never had the people witnessed such a day. The dead sat among the living, and the forest rang with songs of victory. Again and again, Inda and Pilla told how their courage had failed, how they had quarrelled, and how they had finally slain Kupirri with spear, *kutta* and *wirri*.

“Years passed. The two brothers grew old, and the young repeated their story in play. When at last the tribe performed the great rites to preserve their memory, Inda and Pilla were transformed into animals.

“Pilla became the native cat, whose spotted back recalls the marks made by his brother’s spear during their quarrel.

“Inda became the opossum, whose face is streaked by the *uwinda*, remembering the wound he received when the brothers fought.

“After Kupirri’s death, the people lived in peace. No monstrous beast threatened them again. Their numbers increased, and from them grew the mighty tribe that still remembers the story of the Red Kangaroo.”"