Escolar Documentos
Profissional Documentos
Cultura Documentos
Foreword Pages 3 - 9
Preface Pages 10 - 11
Appendix
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When I was twenty years old, way back in 1955, I worked on GoGo station as a cattle
drover in Kimberley, the far Northwest of Australia. In those days the herds of cattle, 300
head strong, were walked the 400 odd miles between Fitzroy Crossing and Derby, before
being loaded onto ships bound south for Perth to be slaughtered and frozen for export
to England.
After one of these trips, while washing the dust from my throat with a cold beer at the bar
of the Fitzroy Crossing Hotel, I found myself standing beside the local policeman, P.C.
Buster Thorpe. Buster was complaining that he had to leave the following week for a
700-mile ride over the Leopold Ranges that separated Fitzroy from Gibb River station. The
country was so rough the only way to cross it was on mule back, it being too tough for
horses. The journey would take a month, which was another reason he was upset, as he
had only just got married. I told him that the journey sounded exciting to me, especially as
it would be the last mounted police patrol ever made due to a planned road. He said that
he would be glad of some company, as otherwise it would just be him and the black tracker.
I would have to provide my own mules, packs and a black tracker to look after the animals.
I went to see my boss and he agreed to lend me everything I required in lieu of wages. So
began one of the most wonderful adventures I have ever had the good fortune to
experience, an adventure that also introduced me to a chain of events that have enriched
my entire life. Buster's job was to show the flag of the law to both whites and blacks as we
rode between the stations north and south of the mountain divide. On top of this he had
been instructed to check out a couple of Germans who were copying Aboriginal paintings
somewhere on Gibb River Station.
I kept a diary during the trip and the entry for June 22nd 1955 reads as follows:-
Mt Barnett to Gibb River. ‘...........and came to Snake Creek which we found was dry,
so we postponed lunch and pushed on another five miles to the Hann River, where the
trackers said we were bound to find water. By the time we reached it, we were past
hunger, so after watering the mules we rode on into the Gibb River homestead. Mr
Russ, the owner, was away but his wife welcomed us in and gave us a wonderful supper.
We had been in the saddle for nine hours and ridden some 40 miles over very rough
country, so we and the mules were all whacked. June 23rd. Mrs Russ, who is a half-caste
and has eight children, is a very large woman. She lives out here all alone most of the
time and I have great admiration for her. They have a good garden with bananas and
pineapples. They water from three hand-dug wells with buckets. The timber in the
house is all hand squared and mostly of foot thick beams.
The snake paintings are fertility Gods. [p34] The main painting is of a snake coiled around
a little girl. Andreas Lommel and his wife told us that the black fellows believe their souls
are found in water holes and depending on where the baby is born, then that is the child's
country and the place his or her soul will return to when they die. Around the paintings,
which are rain gods [rain comes when you touch them] are several rectangular rocks stood
up in other rocks. These are the original snakes coming out of their holes.’ [p31]
Looking back I can't help but wonder what Andreas and Katharina must have thought
when Buster and myself, followed by our black trackers, rode into their camp. Buster had
polished up his police badge and was wearing a revolver, so looked very official. It must
have been quite a surprise. Not for a moment did I think that my meeting Andreas and
Katharine in 1955 would be repeated in Germany in 1991 and again in 2002.
Why is it important to now publish this collection of all the paintings by Katharine
Lommel with Andreas's accompanying notes? The reason is that I believe the following
pages will add yet more flavour to the Mysteries of the Kimberley and the Bradshaw Paintings.
Andreas lived with the nearly unspoilt Aborigines of the Unambal Tribe in 1938. When
he asked the natives about the Bradshaw Paintings they hardly recognised that they
existed, saying that they were of no concern to them.
So who did paint these quite amazing images? They are unarguably the best and oldest
representations of human beings yet discovered on Earth. Who ever the artists were they
shared the drawing talent of artists as skilled as Albrecht Durer.
Andreas and Katharina Lommel in 2002 while discussing their Kimberley experiences of 1955
Only one or two small visible changes since June 23rd 1955
This book contains copies of all the paintings that Katharina Lommel did in the environments
of Gibb River Station in Northwest Australia in the year 1955.
There were two German expeditions to Northwest Australia. The first one was sent out by
Leo Frobenius in the year 1937/38. The expedition was led by Dr. Petri, who worked in the
Glenelg River region between the long since abandoned Government Station Munya and
the long since abandoned Mission Station Kunmunya.
Our second expedition had the same aim as the first one: copying Aboriginal rock paintings.
We worked in the surroundings of the Gibb River Station for six months in the year 1955
and copied rock paintings and brought a large collection back to the Staatiches Museum
fur VoIkerkunde in Munich.
Leo Frobenius (1873 - 1938) had an institute in Frankfurt on Main and sent out from
there expeditions in all regions of the world to copy and photograph rock paintings. He
was one of the main researchers of prehistorical rock paintings. The last expedition he
organised was the one in 1938 to Australia. Here he hoped to still find Aborigines, who
had lived and worked with the paintings and could tell us what the paintings meant
to them.
This first expedition had two painters: Agnes Susanne Schulz and Gerda Beck-Kleist. Agnes
Susanne Schulz wrote a short report about her work in Northwest Australia: Agnes Susanne
Schulz: Northwest Australian Rock Paintings: Memoirs of the National Museum of Victoria,
Melbourne, January 1956.
I was a member of this expedition and my report could only be published after the war in
1952. Andreas Lommel, ‘The Unambal” was published in English in 1997 by Takarakka
Nowan Kas Publications.
The second German expedition was made in 1955 by me and my wife Katharina. It was
financed by the Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft. We are both disciples of Leo
Frobenius. I studied ethnology with him, my wife Katharina worked for years with him,
copying rock paintings in the Middle East, North Africa and finally in Spain in the Altamira
cave. Our aim was to copy rock paintings in Australia and bring the copies to the Staatliches
Museum fur Volkerkunde in Munich. There were two German publications: “Die Kunst des
funften Erdteils”, 1959, and “Die Kunst des alten Australian”, 1988, Prestel-Verlag in
Munchen. There is so far no translation for English readers.
I travelled with him widely between Kunmunya and Wandja Station in the Seder and Glenelg
river regions. As a half-caste he was completely integrated in the Aboriginal culture,
had two wonderful wives and was everywhere regarded as a very trustful and reliable man.
Mrs Russ had been married to Fred Russ, the station owner for many years. We paid for
food and shelter, horses and donkeys and an Aboriginal guide who led us to the rock
painting sites. Katharina writes of how we worked and lived there in her article: ‘Studying
and copying rock paintings’.
We had written to a number of stations in the north-western area of the Northern Territory
where we knew that rock painting sites must exist. The owners either failed to answer at
all or flatly refused our request for assistance. The only helpful reply came from Gibb River
and the Russ family. As it later turned out, the farmer’s wife — an Aborigine woman — had
met my husband during his previous visit to Australia in 1938, and still remembered him
with affection.
Mrs Russ with some of her children Fred Russ with his youngest daughter
We stayed for six months at the station during the dry season — between the annual
monsoons — and were provided with native guides who knew the places where the rock
paintings were to be found. On horseback, and with mules to carry our camping equipment
and drawing utensils, we rode to the sites, where we stayed for several days or even weeks
at a time. The animals were looked after by the natives.
The sites of the paintings we copied were all in the area around Gibb River station. Their
names are Ngungunda, Molcott, Aulen, Wonalirri and Sundron.
(pictured right)
Joe, head stockman, with his little boy
My husband took the photographs for purposes of authentication. In many cases it is not
possible to photograph the paintings exactly as the surface of the stone is generally not
smooth and even, but full of hollows and indentations which the camera cannot capture.
We used sticking-plaster to fasten the large sheets of tracing foil to the unpainted parts of
the rock. Doing this inevitably involved touching the paintings but did no damage.
The Aborigines claim that they, or their ancestors, did not actually paint the pictures but
merely ‘touch’ them, to make rain or ensure better crops, by renewing the colours. They
were therefore eager to see whether our ‘touching’ would have the same effect. In some
cases, a small amount of rain did indeed fall and Mr Russ commented that our work was
evidently good for the grass!
We rolled the copies of the paintings up in stout metal tubes, which had been specially
made for the purpose, and transported them back to the station by mules.
Jerry’s own mother was an incurable leper, living in a hospital many miles away. He was
brought up by the wife of our guide — “I grow him”, she said — who had no children of
her own.
The guide, whose name was Nipper, was a tall, powerful, good-humoured man who
was also very knowledgeable. His second wife, Djabel, had the self-possessed manner
of a true grand dame. On one occasion in the past, she had been almost killed by a
jealous suitor wielding a shovel spear. She could not ride and was unwilling to learn.
Instead she was forever on the lockout for edible plants and flowers, or for bees,
whose flight patterns told her where to go looking for honeycombs. Little Jerry sat on
the horse’s withers, in front of his father, who tried to initiate him into the mysteries
of tracking.
Tracking is a particular skill of the Australian aborigines. Even on bone-hard ground, they
can glean a great deal of information about the passing of any creature, animal or human,
by looking at the exact pattern of the prints in the layer of small stones and, other debris
that covers the earth. The slightest variation in the angle or pressure of the foot can be highly
significant. Every morning we had a fresh opportunity to marvel at this skill, when Nipper
rounded up the animals which had strayed off during the night to graze elsewhere.
We soon realised that our companions were only familiar with the large Wandjina paintings.
They were unaware of the smaller figures nearby, which had to be pointed out to them,
and even then they were hesitant in acknowledging what they saw.
In Wonalirri we camped inside the cave where we were working. Our water came from
a small spring at the base of the rock, which quickly dried up, so that my husband literally
had to use a spoon to fill the billycan for our morning tea, while fighting off a swarm of
thirsty dragonflies and hornets. Eventually he found another, more reliable water source
further down the valley. On one occasion, the two Aborigines barely managed to prevent
a dying bull from contaminating the water: fortunately, the animal collapsed just before
reaching the edge of the pool.
In Ngungunda and Molcott the watering-places were somewhat further away. We had to
avoid fetching water in the early evening when the cattle came to drink as they were not
only thirsty, but angry and aggressive too. As the dry season wore on collecting water
posed a growing problem.
In Wonalirri we camped right beside the paintings, while at Aulen we stayed by the river.
But in Sundron we had to set up our camp well away from the painting site, which the
Aborigines held in deep awe. At each site we recorded such paintings as were still visible.
I copied the pictures whose outlines were the clearest, the ones which seemed particularly
important, and especially the small-figure compositions, after we had realised that these
works, which our guides had failed to recognise, were the oldest specimens of rock painting.
My husband often had to assist me. Some of the pictures were painted on the undersides
of horizontal rock shelves, while others, such as Star Wandjina and Plum-Tree Wandjina
We worked in Wonalirri for three weeks, at the end of which it took our guides fully half a day
to round up the four horses and five mules in preparation for our return. Meanwhile the two of
us packed our things, rolling up the painting copies and stowing them away, in the specially-made
protective tubes.
We rode for two days. Our packs contained only the barest necessities, which meant
that we had no tarpaulin to shield us from the sun. Hopefully the rocks would provide
enough shade. By the time we pitched our camp by a small water-hole, night had
already fallen. The next morning, Nipper said he was going off to look for the painting
site. All we could see was tall grass, scrub and eucalyptus trees, with no rocks of any
significant size.
In the evening Nipper returned, exhausted, having failed to find any paintings. The same
happened the next day. On the third day, he asked us for some matches, the idea being
toburn off the tall grass so that he would be able to see better. The scrub all around our
camp was smouldering when he came back at nightfall, once again in a state of total
exhaustion. That night, we heard him hallucinating. The following morning he said that
only a man called ‘Charlie’ could find Sundron, because, as he explained, “It belongs to
him”. We allowed him to ride back and fetch the site’s rightful ‘owner’.
Four days later, Nipper arrived in the evening, accompanied by Charlie. Setting off at daybreak,
we rode for about a mile, until our new guide told us to dismount and hitch the horses
to a tree. He would show my husband the way to the rock, but only on foot, and I would
have to stay behind as the site was strictly out of bounds to women.
The two of them soon returned. We thanked Charlie and arranged with Nipper that he
would come back in the evening to collect us; the two Aborigines then departed, taking
our horses with them.
In the meantime, I had unpacked our working materials. By the evening of the first day
we had finished copying the large painting of the two crocodiles, measuring 230 x 300cm.
This left us with plenty of time to study and record details of the colours, in addition to
taking photographs and looking for further paintings. Charlie had given Nipper some old
potato sacks in which to wrap the copies of the paintings before carefully packing them
in the metal tubes. He warned us not to follow our normal practice of showing the copies
to other Aborigines on our return; nor, he emphasised, were the pictures to be exhibited
in a cinema.
It was as if we had suddenly caught a glimpse of something hitherto concealed from us, which
might now jeopardise the work to which we had devoted so much effort. For us, too, Sundron
became a strange, uncanny place. We had to ride there alone, tie up our horses, and return alone.
Our Aborigines never left the camp. At night we heard them singing and clapping their music sticks.
Our task was completed.We wanted to set off as early as possible so as to arrive before
nightfall at the water-hole mid-way between Sundron and Gibb River.
In the event, there was only one encounter of this kind, and the wild donkeys ran off again
before their domesticated cousins had a chance to make up their minds about whether or
not to join them.
This time we were continually vexed by the mules, which not only refused to follow but
were forever seeking an opportunity to divest themselves of their heavy burden. Loading
them up again was a tiresome business, especially in burning heat and under severe
pressure of time.
It was dark when we reached the small water hole. In the night there was a heavy rain and
no shelter and we could not sleep. Our animals remained with us near their packs so we
could start next day very early. On Gibb River station aborigines had heard us coming and
welcomed us back.
The Wandjina rock paintings were discovered accidentally in 1838 by George Grey, the
subsequent governor of South Australia. Grey studied the subject in some depth and came
up with two significant, but conflicting ideas. On the one hand, he accorded the paintings
the status of ‘art’, which was novel in a sense: up to that point, no European had seen these
‘primitive’ pictures in such terms. On the other hand, however, Grey refused to believe that
paintings of such quality could have been made by the Aborigines; instead, he attributed
them to influences from outside Australia — probably, he thought, from Egypt. Today, this
strikes one as extremely far-fetched: theories of Melanesian or Indian influence would
seem a great deal more plausible.
The first systematic research on the rock art of Australia was undertaken by Daniel
Sutherland Davidson, a dedicated and meticulous American scholar who spent several
years studying the tools, weapons and paintings of the Aborigines and published a series
of maps showing the distribution of specific motifs over the entire sub-continent. Davidson
placed the study of Aboriginal art on a serious academic footing, leaving no doubt as to his
own high opinion of the artistic quality of the paintings and carvings on the tools, weapons
and shields. (See D.S. Davidson, Aboriginal Australian and Tasmanian Rock Carvings
and Paintings. American Philosophical Society Memoirs, vol. V, “Philadelphia, 1936; and
A Preliminary Consideration of Aboriginal Australian Decorative Art. American
Philosophical Society Memoirs, Philadelphia, 1937).
These paintings and carvings have only recently been accepted as art by Europeans and
white Australians; to this extent, Davidson was far ahead of his time.
The first full-scale study of the rock paintings of the Kimberley region of north-west
Australia was carried out by the anthropologist A.P. Bikin (1891-1979). Bikin showed how
the process of discovery and research had advanced in several distinct stages, beginning
with occasional finds which had formed the basis of private and local collections, and
progressing via random individual efforts towards the fully-fledged scientific investigation
which commenced in the mid 1920s.
Since then, following Elkin’s example, many Australian scholars have devoted their energies
to studying rock art. A significant breakthrough occurred in 1948 as a result of an expedition
to Arnhem Land, led by C.P. Mountford, which led to the discovery of the small-figure paintings
in and around Oenpelli. F.D. McCarthy, a member of Mountford’s team, wrote about the cave
paintings of Groote and Chasm islands and contributed a unique series of photographs of the
‘string figures’ of Arnhem Land. (See F.D. McCarthy, ‘The String Figures of Yirkalla’).
Today, the study of rock art is conducted under the academic umbrella of AURA, Australian
Research Association. The most recent major survey of the field was published by Grahame L.
Walsh (Australia’s Greatest Rock Art. Bathurst NSW, 1988). His book contains a fine selection
of colour plates of the paintings and carvings at the major sites, which are accompanied in
each case by a small map and a photograph showing the site’s general aspect and setting,
together with comprehensive bibliographical references.
It was Elkin, too, who made the first attempt to relate the art of the Aborigines to other so
called primitive cultures, on the Asian mainland, in the hope of expanding the parochial
horizons of Australian scholars and persuading them to take note of developments elsewhere,
in a monograph titled ‘Aboriginal Man of High Degree’ (Sydney 1945), he compared the
‘wise men’ and medicine men of Australia with the Buddhist lamas of Tibet, drawing a
number of parallels between their respective world-views and practices.
The book earned few plaudits. At this point, far too little was known about Asian customs
to make such a bold comparison stick, and in any case, the attitude of Australian scholars
to unconventional ideas of this kind was highly unreceptive.
Elkin also smoothed the path for the 1938 expedition to the Kimberley region by the
Frobenius Institute in Frankfurt. At the time, the Institute’s director, Leo Frobenius
(1873- 1938), was endeavouring to compile a world atlas of rock art. He regarded rock
paintings as the first ‘written’ documents of human culture, and organised expeditions to copy
the pictures in Norway, Spain, North and South Africa, the Middle East, and finally, Australia.
Continuing the work begun in the 1930s, the Staatliches Museum fur Volkerkunde in
Munich sent an expedition to north- west Australia in 1955. The numerous copies of rock
paintings made on this occasion were published in an exhibition catalogue and are now
stored at the museum. (See Andreas and Katharina Lommel, Die Kuast des Pflnften Erdteils
- Australlien. Munich 1959, and Die Kunst des alten Australien. Prestel: Munich, 1988.)
The Wandjinas are anthropomorphic figures drawn in rough outline. Some are very crude
and clumsy, but others are executed with a considerable measure of primitive refinement.
The natural curves and indentations of the stone are often used to create additional plastic
effects. Wandjinas are generally portrayed in a horizontal position, with the face enclosed
U
by a -shaped border in red or yellow ochre. Only the eyes and nose are painted, the
mouth is missing. Several mythological explanations have been advanced for the lack of a
mouth, but the proliferation of competing versions inevitably casts doubts on their plausibility.
Beneath the pictures one often finds skulls, painted in red ochre, with the lower part of the
jaw missing. These mark the site of skull burials, at the spot where people found their
‘soul-home’. Thus the mouthless faces of the Wandjinas are portraits, as it were, of the
buried and painted skulls.
The old men who acted as our guides in 1938 often approached the rock painting sites by
an oddly circuitous route. They were obeying the rule that one had to follow the exact
path, including all the detours, taken by the ancestor whose image is painted on the rock
and which found its last resting place there. Thus the journey to the site was itself a form
of commentary on the mythical memories preserved in the paintings.
The Wandjina paintings are found on the undersides of rock ledges, which shelter them
against the copious rainfalls during the wet season. The pictures are a vehicle for the
transmission of creation myths. The Aborigines believe that the world originated in what
they call Lalai the Dreaming — a primordial state which is not confined to the past but
stands outside time.
After the Wandjinas were created, they journeyed across the country and shaped it in its
present form. It was they who made the rain and dug out the rivers, who built the mountains
and levelled the plains. At a time when the stones were still ‘soft’, they built themselves
‘houses’ of stone. When they died, they lay down on the soft rocks and left the imprint of
their bodies on the surface; these marks are the rock paintings which can be seen today.
At the exact spot where they left their ‘shadow’, the Wandjinas descended into the earth;
since then, they have lived on at the bottom of the water source associated with each of the
paintings. There, they continually produce new ‘child-seeds’, which are regarded as the
source of all human life.
In the 1930s, the notion that procreation is a function of ‘dreaming’ rather than of the sexual
As befits this view of the origins of life, the Wandjina paintings are regarded as centres of
spiritual and biological energy on which the very survival of the species depends.
Great importance is therefore attached to the annual task of repainting the Wandjinas, and
the accompanying animals and plants, in order to renew the spiritual energies which these
images harbour.
Until well into the 1930s, the Wandjina paintings occupied a key position in the religious
ideas of the Aborigines of north-west Australia.
In the Kimberley region one also encounters small rock paintings of human figures. Their
location varies: sometimes they are to be found in the immediate vicinity of the larger
Wandjina paintings, but sometimes they stand entirely on their own, as if they had been
dropped at random into the landscape. Invariably painted in monochrome dark red, the figures
are often shown walking or running, generally carrying a barbed spear or a boomerang.
Elaborately coiffured and ornamented, they sometimes appear to be clothed instead of going
naked. The figures are known as Bradshaws, after their discoverer, J.P. Bradshaw, who published
an illustrated account of his findings in 1892 (‘Notes on a Recent Trip to Prince Regent River’,
Royal Geographical Society of Australia. Victorian Branch. Transactions. 9(5), pp. 90-103.
The origins of this style of painting are relatively obscure. A measure of outside influence
must be assumed, as the depletion of movement is wholly uncharacteristic of indigenous
Australian art, although the weapons — the multibarbed spear and boomerang — remain
typical. Possibly the external influence was only short-lived.
A small Bradshaw style rock paintings at the Sundron copied by Katharina Lommel
86 x 41 cm
A typical Bradshaw painting. Usually the figures of these paintings are represented in
movement. Here we have a later version of the Bradshaw Style. As usual our Aborigines
did not know the picture and they were not interested in it. Katharina copied it and
probably the little dog figure between the two figures on the left side is a later addition.
Instead of being tied to a religious context, Bradshaws are possibly an instance of creative
activity inspired by purely playful motives. The pictures are painted directly on the rock,
using any flat surface available and paying no heed to the question of protection from the
elements. Seldom over 60 cm high, the small figures are often found in groups.
In his survey of the subject, Grahame Walsh examines the question of stylistic derivation
and priority, pointing out that both types of painting, the Bradshaw and the Wandjina,
are often found at the same site. In such cases, the central picture is always the
Wandjina, with the Bradshaws distributed round about in small niches and alcoves.
Sometimes there is an element of continuity between the two styles: this is the case, for
example, in Wonalirri, where the motif of the tree is repeated and varied.
The site is located approximately 3 and a half miles north-east of Gibb River station, on a
hill which slopes southwards towards the Ngungunda creek and is bounded on the north-east
by one of the latter’s tributaries. Large numbers of non-venomous snakes inhabit the area,
which is regarded as a mythical gathering place for the souls of dead snakes.
Set on a white ground, the contours of the snakes are painted in combinations of black with
red or yellow ochre, or in plain red or yellow. The scaly appearance of their skin is conveyed
by neat rows of straight lines ending at either side in black dots.
The natural sculptural effect of the stone is exploited very skilfully, especially in the
depletion of the spiralling snake on the left, whose visual impact is heightened by its location
in a small alcove. The relative freshness of the colours suggests that the painting in its
present form is no more than a few years old.
The natives told us that the painting site was a nesting place for Ungud snakes. Like the
natural stone formations in the area round about, the stone arrangements point to the places
where the snakes emerge from the underground realm which they are thought to inhabit.
Our Aboriginal companions expressed surprise at the paintings’ excellent state of preservation,
while claiming, however, that the pictures had not been there the last time they visited the
site — i.e., the previous year. Since the site had been seen and recorded as early as 1953 or
1954, this could not possibly be the case. (See E.A.Worms, ‘Contemporary and Prehistoric
Rock Paintings in Central and Northern North Kimberley’, Anthropos 50, 1955, pp. 546-566.)
However, the contradictory assertion at least made one thing clear: that the painting was new
and modern. This conclusion was borne out by the stylistic aspect of the work, which lacks
formal clarity, in a less than successful attempt to modernise traditional imagery, the painter
has arranged the snakes beneath the Wandjina into a shape resembling a human shoulder.
Close by the watering-place associated with the picture, but on the opposite, southern bank
of the creek, are the remains of three further rock paintings. Executed in red on a vertical rock
face, these pictures are protected from the rain and sun.
One of these paintings shows an erect human figure with raised hands and slightly
bent wrists. Its head is indicated by a plain circle: there is no facial detail. The drawing is
crudely naturalistic.
Adjacent to this is a crouching figure whose body and limbs are drawn in parallel red lines.
Again, the head is indicated by a plain circle, but in this case, the eyes and mouth are present,
if only in rudimentary form. Little can be said about the third figure, whose outlines are no
more than barely discernible.
The Aborigines had not shown us these paintings, but subsequently admitted that they had
been fully aware of their existence, and although they made no secret of the fact that our
discovery had upset them, they refused to explain why.
(Standing figure) Painted in red on a vertical rock face near the watering-place at
Ngungunda, this figure stands out very clearly in the landscape. Its feet have only four toes,
an anatomical peculiarity it shares with the spirit figures in the primitive paintings of eastern
Arnhem Land. A further unusual feature of the picture is the fact that the figure seems to
be wearing a kind of hood, so that only its eyes remain visible. Next to the head there is
painted a circle and a semicircle — allusions, perhaps, to the sun and moon?
(Crouching figure) The body of this figure is drawn in parallel lines; the arms are bent at
the elbow, the mouth and eyes roughly outlined. A burst of rays issues from the head. Like
its erect companion, the crouching figure is painted in red. Its aggressive pose is perhaps
intended to disconcert the viewer.
The Molcott site is on a hill that slopes westwards down to a bend in the Hann River. By
the path stands a single Mushroom-shaped rock with a series of overhangs which protect
the paintings from the elements.
The largest of the paintings, on the south-west side of the rock, is visible from a distance of
up to 800 metres. It shows a group of four (formerly five) snakes, whose bodies are outlined
in yellowish-brown and black on a white ground and filled in with yellowish-brown dots.
The eyes are drawn as black patches with a border of ochre yellow interspersed with black
dots; in one or two instances a line runs between the eyes and tapers into the form of a
forked tongue. Above the snakes in the centre is a depiction of a small dog. At the edges
of the composition one notices traces of previous paintings which are very similar to the
present pictures, with the exception that the scaly appearance of the skin is indicated by
parallel rows of yellow lines culminating in black dots.
To the right of the main painting are several older pictures, now faded, which also
appear to be depictions of snakes. Further to the right, in a small recess in the sloping
surface of the rock face, there is a faded Wandjina painting which is evidently of older
vintage. A second painting of this type is to be found on the left of the main picture;
here, the only visible features are the snake’s head, and beneath it, can be seen the head
of a kangaroo, which was evidently repainted twice on separate occasions. Both of the
latter paintings are executed in an ochre yellow which has faded with age, but one can
still make out the eyes and ears, drawn from a frontal perspective, and the muzzle,
which is depicted in profile. The sculptural potential of the rock’s natural contours is
exploited to the full.
Close by this painting we found two smaller Wandjinas and a depletion of a kangaroo
which were clearly very new and executed by an unskilled hand. One of the Wandjinas is
outlined in red, the other in yellow ochre. The infill is black, and the ground a bluish white.
On a vertical rock face near this shelter, one notices trails of yellow and red paint which
were presumably depictions of snakes, together with a tree-like shape in yellow ochre. The
ceiling of the next shelter is decorated with three snakes, two larger examples in yellow and
a smaller one in red. These pictures, too, are faded, but the remaining traces are clear
enough to differentiate them from the other paintings at the same site. They were evidently
painted very hastily, and their style dates from an earlier period.
A further shelter contains a total of 27 Wandjinas, crudely outlined in yellow. This group
has often been photographed, and we decided not to copy it.
The sloping ceiling of yet another shelter features a painting of two echidnas which is evidently
new and stylistically related to the main painting.
According to the natives, the creature in the main painting is not an Ungud snake but a member
of the venomous, yellow-skinned species known as Bamalu, which has its ‘graveyard’ here.
Beneath the picture of the snake with the indentations, one finds a number of cut and polished
stones, signifying that Walanganda created snakes here by cutting their souls out of the rock.
Two porcupines
95 x 48 cm
The sloping ceiling of a further rock shelter features a painting of two porcupines.
In 1955 the main picture with the five snakes had evidently undergone recent repainting.
On the ground beneath the painting we found several bark palettes, together with lumps
of rock and chewed sticks which had been used to apply the colour. Our guides refrained
from commenting on the possible identity of the painter.
The paintings at this site are executed on a vertical rock face running from east to west by
the bank of the Hann River. In the western left hand niche of the rock face, just above the
big white rock, is a faded picture of three Wandjinas.
Three Wandjinas
About fifteen metres further on, in a natural cave, is a painting of a snake, also very faded;
the body is painted red and the head black. Seated on its back is a bird. Three separate
versions of the latter motif were painted at different times, and probably in different
colours, too. While the outlines of the oldest version are now largely obscured, it is clear
that the next painting was executed in dark red and the final version in yellow ochre.
Again, skilful use is made of the sculptural qualities of the rock surface.
Recalling fragments of a mythical narrative, the Aborigines told us that the snake’s name is
Wala. It is a genuine Ungud, and very dangerous. The bird is said to be an eagle.
Our guides knew only of these two paintings and failed even to recognise the other
pictures at the site, which were executed in quite different styles.
The people who ‘belonged’ to the painting were all dead, remembered only by our Aboriginal
guide and by a destitute old leper who came to the site and shyly paid his silent respects.
The next picture again shows a snake, but is painted in an entirely different style. The outlines
are drawn in dark red ochre, but the motif has evidently been repainted several times. This
has been done in such a way that parts of the older drawings remain clearly visible: the lines
follow the approximate pattern of the previous composition rather than exactly reproducing
it. The resulting picture is an attractively varied whole with a particularly animated quality.
The painting shown (below left) in black, found at the base of the rock face, is a fragment
showing two masked dancers. One can still recognise the elegantly delineated legs of the one
figure and the masked upper body of the other. The disguise seems to consist of bunches of
feathers or leaves, after the fashion of the masks which persisted in central Australia until
only a few years ago: illustrations can be found in, for example, B. Spencer’s various
accounts of Aboriginal customs.
This almost life-sized figure (below right) was found in a niche in the rock face. Its contours,
painted in black, are very faded, but one can still make out the frontally depicted upper body,
together with the left shoulder and most of the right arm. The exact significance of the lines
near the right arm is unclear, but they could well refer to a weapon, such as a boomerang. A
decorative band or string runs across the chest from the right shoulder to the left hip. The
right-facing head is portrayed in profile, as well as the chin and somewhat blurred nose, the
identifiable features include a headband and feather.
By contrast, the figures on either side lack any sense of movement. They are shown in profile,
and their colours are faded. On the right, the body of the wasp-waisted figure tapers
upwards into a tall hairdo, with the hair piled up into a slightly skewed shape.
A meticulously accurate drawing of three double barbed spears runs through the picture
from top left to bottom right. This rock painting is the most elegant specimen we found.
The central figure has been widely imitated. It must be admitted, however, that the two
adjacent figures are considerably less impressive. Although the painting was still clearly
visible, our guides had trouble in recognising it.
To us, the Aulen site seemed like a kind of rock painting gallery, with a selection of pictures
from a wide range of periods and styles.
Grahame Walsh visited the site in 1988 and managed to unearth a few more fragments of
local mythology, although he made no new discoveries, and found the pictures largely
unchanged since our visit in 1955.
The site consists of a shelter, about 60 metres long and 5 metres wide, in a rock face which
forms the eastern wall of a deep gorge. A stream runs through the gorge and flows into a
tributary of the Chapman River. The various paintings in the shelter were evidently made at
different times. Above the main site, on the rock face, are the remains of a long frieze of figures
with a height of about one metre, but these are now inaccessible and difficult to recognise.
The main picture in the cave is divided between the vertical rear wall and a horizontal rock
surface. It shows a Wandjina, about seven metres in length, bearing a ‘tree’ slung over his
left shoulder. This, according to the Aborigines, is a species of plum tree. The name
Wonalirri is said to be a derivative from a type of edible flower.
The Wandjina wears a head-dress of two cockatoo feathers. On its body was a depletion,
already exfoliated, of a wildly animated human figure. The painting of the Wandjina is old, and
parts of it have peeled away. The leaves on the tree show traces of earlier paintings; here,
one notices that the older drawings are somewhat different from their present-day counterparts.
On the vertical wall is a second large Wandjina. Its body faces leftwards, and it, too, wears
a pair of cockatoo feathers on its head. In front of the figure, set on a white ground, the
faces of three further Wandjinas are interspersed with pictures of various flora and fauna.
The body of the central figure is also decorated with a total of eight Wandjinas, accompanied
by a further set of plant and animal decorations.
Near the end of the tree-trunk in the large Wandjina picture is a second image of a devil.
Originally painted in black, the picture is now largely faded, but its quality was probably
poor to begin with. Next to this one notices an arc-shaped line, patterned with markings
that resemble the tracks of a kangaroo.
Kangaroo tracks
21 x 23 cm
The pattern of marks resembles kangaroo
footprints. However, this interpretation
is contradicted by a myth according to
which the deceased, on entering the
kingdom of the dead, hang their feet
up on a string; the feet are then trans-
formed into bats (see the publication
Lommel, Die Unambal - Ein Stamm in
Sudwest-Australien).
Four snakes
320 x 66 cm
Four snakes with their tails tangled up in a spiral, and theirheads,
facing rightwards, arranged in a staggered vertical row.
Above its head is a red patch which may be a feather head-dress, but the precise significance
of the shape is uncertain, in its right hand the figure clutches two boomerangs and a barbed
spear; the hooked shape on the left refers to a woomera or spear-thrower. The figure stands
approximately 60 cm high. Its outlines are completely filled in with red pigment.
Crawford tried to find this painting again in 1967. He happened to have a copy of our catalogue
Die Kunst des Funften Erdteils with him, and showed the relevant illustration to his
Aboriginal guides. They interpreted the figure as a grasshopper, despite its obviously
human form, and were unable to recognise the boomerangs and the spear.
On the left of the large Wandjina are several small pictures of human figures, possibly
dancers, which are distributed seemingly at random over the rocks. The head-dresses
appear to consist of bunches of foliage or miniature trees. Stylistically, these pictures are
difficult to categorise.
Three dancers
Height 31 cm (approx.)
Crudely drawn in broad bands of colour, were probably made by finger-painting. The elongated
shape and lack of anatomical detail heighten the overall impression of monumentality.
The Sundron site lies north of Gibb River farm, at the western most fringe of a range of hills
running on an east-west axis. It is close to Bella Creek, a tributary of the Hann River. The
painting covers parts of the ceiling and rear wall of a west-facing shelter, it shows two crocodiles,
one facing right and the other left. Both reptiles are outlined in yellow ochre and red on a
white ground. Below one sees a number of small crocodiles, together with several human
figures which are presumably destined to be devoured by the reptiles.
Our guides attributed the two crudely drawn black figures to a near-blind old man whom
we had already seen on a previous occasion at Aulen, when he visited the painting site,
quietly ignoring our presence.
The site was visited by Crawford in 1963. Grahame L. Walsh tried to find it again in 1989
but was unable to do so because Charlie Numbulmore, who acted as our guide, and also
accompanied Crawford, had died in the meantime.
Some distance away, on a steep but relatively low rock face, is a sketch of four human
figures. Drawn in red, the diminutive figures are old and faded, but the casual elegance
of the draughtsmanship is still very striking. This painting is evidently unconnected with
the painting of the crocodiles.
Next to the figures is a childish drawing of a dog. According to local mythology, a group
of crocodiles once journeyed up the Durack River, travelling in a south-westerly direction.
On the way, they became involved in a fight, and one of them was killed and even today
his grave is still marked by an oval-shaped pile of stones about three miles north-west
of the rock painting. Some of the other crocodiles left their ‘shadow’ at the painting site,
while a further group travelled on to the Phillips Range.
Although the Aborigines said little about the painting, it still held a very definite significance
for them, and they were clearly afraid of it. We were told that a stockman driving
cattle near the site had once cracked his whip too loudly. This annoyed the crocodiles
so much that they caused a great flood, completely swamping the area around the
Gibb River.
Visiting the site posed us major problems. The Aborigines stubbornly resisted the idea,
using all manner of subterfuge, and even when we had overcome their objections,
they insisted on taking a whole range of intricate precautions before approaching any
of the paintings.
In general, women were forbidden to see or ‘touch’ the painting. The only females allowed
near it were those deemed to be ‘close up dead’ - in other words, old. This apparently
included Katharina.
Unlike in previous cases, we were not allowed to spread the copy of the painting out on
the cement floor of the homestead which offered the advantage of an even surface and
continue working on it. Instead, we were told to keep it rolled up in one of the special
metal containers we had brought with us.
We also had to promise the Aborigines not to show the copy to anyone, until we were on
our own ‘station’, when we arrived back home.
English readers will find the 1938 scientific material gathered by Lommel published in the
anthropological journal Oceania 1949 and 1950. After World War II Lommel, now Director
of the State Museum of Ethnology in Munich, returned to his former field, accompanied by
his wife, Katharina Lommel. The latter, a gifted artist, was responsible for the fine copies
of aboriginal rock and bark paintings and decorated objects, and the excellent designs and
text illustrations, which made their joint volume Die Kunst des alten Australien (1989) one
of the most beautiful books ever produced on the aboriginal Australian art forms.
These publications contain all the scientific information and details of field work (also
most of the illustrations) on which Lommel's latest book has been factually based. But
whereas Lommel in his earlier writings had shown that he could evaluate aboriginal
Australian culture in the terminology of a critical ethnologist, and discuss, in cold sociological
terms, the aboriginals as members of a dying social order undermined by European
culture contact, ‘Fortschritt ins Nichts’ reveals a wholly new author: a European capable
of responding with deep emotion to the aesthetic properties of the aboriginal art forms,
filled with warm human understanding for the plight of dark men and women, whose
way of life and social order, beliefs and economic activities, culture and languages, were
all collapsing in a matter of a few decades after they had lost their rights to a land which
had been theirs for thousands of years. The clear-headed scientist responsible for the 1938
expedition account in 0ceania had become, in 1969, a warm-hearted humanitarian, with the
sensitivities of an artist and a poet. His very style, too, infused now with deep emotion,
had undergone, as it were, 'a sea-change into something rich and strange'.
Occasional inexactitudes of detail need not worry a reader looking for an accurate general
picture of aboriginal society. Here he will find a community of living men and women
attending to their daily chores, both new and traditional, and still drawing emotional satisfaction
and spiritual strength from the religious ties linking the visible world of their senses with
that supernatural world which was fused so intimately with their everyday experiences.
Aboriginal religion was based on a belief in the existence of indivisible, personal ties linking
men, nature, and the supernatural beings. Lommel gives many convincing pen sketches of
living figures (for instance, the 'poet Allan'): these are far removed from the nameless shadows,
vaguely labelled 'informants', that are normally mentioned by the anthropologists.
‘Fortschritt ins Nichts’ indicates Lommel's conviction that all European-Australian efforts to
‘assimilate’ the remnants of the indigenous dark population into white society can terminate
only in disaster for the latter.
He rightly emphasises the decline of the full-blood population, which had reached
near-genocidal proportions by 1938. He believes that in the end nothing will survive of the
languages, the legal norms, the social institutions, or the religious beliefs of the dark folk.
AS a member of the Frobenius Expedition sent to Australia in 1938, I had the opportunity
to collect some data about the influence of modern culture on the life of the aborigines in
the Kimberley Division in north-west Australia.
As is generally known, the Australian aborigines have almost disappeared from the southern
part of the continent. A demographic record of the year 1933 gives the number of the
natives of Australia as 80,710, of whom 60,101 are recorded as fullbloods; 36,000 of these
are still living as nomads, whereas 23,000 live in a semi-civilised state in the surroundings
of white settlements.
Our research was concentrated mainly on three tribes in the Kimberley Division : The
Ungarinyin, the Worora and the Unambal. In the territory of the first tribe are the
Government Station, Munja on the bank of the Walcott Inlet and one station on the Sale
River. The second tribe lives concentrated in the vicinity of the Kunmunya Mission. The
Unambal inhabit the country farther north between the Prince Regent River and Cape
Voltaire. With the exception of an old and solitary dingo-trapper south of the Prince Regent
River the Unambal had no white settler in their territory, but they frequently visited the
Kunmunja Mission.
The members of these three tribes lived in almost every imaginable state between undisturbed
original culture and complete absorption. There were at least in the year 1938 still a few
older individuals who had never seen a white man and who knew of modern culture only
by hearsay, but they all had occasionally seen a plane circling over their country. On the
other hand, there were individuals at their station and the mission who had lived there
since their childhood and worked as stockboys and common labourers. In the small coastal
towns, Broome and Derby, aborigines and some half-castes worked as car-drivers and in
shops. They were completely absorbed in modern culture and had no contact with their
fellow tribesmen in the hinterland; but they exerted a strong influence on the occasional
visitors from Munja and Kunmunya.
There were, of course, numerous states between those extremes, but generally three groups
A second group lived as only temporary workers on the station. Its members knew modern
culture by contact, and they appreciated sugar, tea, tobacco and blankets. Half of the year
they lived in the bush as nomadic hunters like their ancestors, their economic life being
enriched only by a few matches, tools and clothes. They found themselves in a transition
phase and were the connecting link with the third group. This last was very small. It consisted
of some shy, timid, and mostly older, individuals who hid themselves carefully in the
rugged hinterland and avoided contact with modern culture. Economically, they kept
completely to the frame of their old nomadic culture; they used weapons of wood and
stone, and preserved a Stone Age way of life.
Even so the impact of modern culture made itself strongly felt in the third group. These
individuals who had never seen a white man were irritated and frightened by the rumours
they heard about him and his devices. Of these they knew the plane and, when living near
the sea, also the strange spectacle of a lighted steamboat passing by at night. As their economic
life remained unchanged, the influence of modern culture was restricted entirely to the
psychological sphere but was strong enough to change their life considerably.
Their economic conditions were favourable: kangaroos were abundant everywhere. The
Government regarded the country, which was of little use to white men, as a sort of native
reservation, and generally prohibited visiting adventurers, traders, and possible settlers from
entering it. Thus, contact could take place in an exceptionally friendly way at the mission
and the two stations, and those who preferred to remain in the hinterland could remain
there unmolested.
We had the opportunity to know for months members of all the three groups, those of the
third group belonging to the Unambal exclusively and to converse with them with the help
of indigenous interpreters and to become acquainted with their way of life. Everywhere the
result of the slightest contact seemed to be a falling birth-rate and a disintegrating social
organisation. In spite of favourable economic and hygienic conditions in the Kunmunya
Mission, the decline of the birth-rate was evident even here. Social organisation was tottering
also among the Unambal, who were the least influenced by contact with white men.
A few individuals of this tribe were living almost isolated from the rest, old and childless.
Only on a special occasion did they emerge from the hinterland and join their fellow tribesmen.
Wherever a closer contact takes place, a falling birth-rate may usually be ascribed to
introduced diseases or declining economic conditions. But here, things could not be
explained that way. It appeared that the news of modern culture alone was sufficient to
destroy the aborigines’ concept of the universe. All these rumours about the white men
who looked pale like the spirits of the dead, of their ships, motor-cars and aeroplanes
seemed to disturb these primitives deeply and produce a remarkable effect on their
cultural and biological existence.
Psychic conditions seem to effect their physical well-being far more than we would consider
normal. The aborigines maintain that, if we translate in our own terminology what they
said, their reproductive abilities depend not only on their physical well-being but on their
psychic balance as well. Many conversations with aborigines suggested that rumours and
tales of modern culture, as well as a merely superficial contact with it, destroy not only their
concept of the universe but also upset their psychic balance enough to diminish their
reproductive abilities. The missionary of Kunmunya, the late Rev. J. B. Love, who had
concentrated around his mission almost the whole Worora of over 200 persons, clearly saw
that it was dying out fast : only about one-tenth of the whole population was under 20 years.
There were, however, no discernible material reasons for this state of affairs. Economic
conditions were excellent and the mission kept a close eye on sanitary conditions. The
missionary talked things over with the men and several times did so in my presence. It
became clear that the aborigines regarded a special psychic disposition, which they
called a ‘dream,’ as the cause of pregnancy.
Intimations to have more frequent intercourse with their wives remained meaningless to
them. There, in the mission, the problem of ignorance of physical paternity did not exist.
The physical facts had been brought to their knowledge by discussions with white persons,
but still they regarded those facts from a different point of view. To them the physical act
of generation was more or less insignificant ; the accent was on a psychic condition a
‘dream’ which they regarded as being of biological importance concerning their procreative
disposition. Men of the hinterland who had almost no contact with whites referred to those
‘dreams’ as the one and only, or at least the main, reason of paternity.
These ‘dreams’ involve all the mythical and totemic ideas. The first and creative beings of
their Genesis transformed themselves, ‘dreaming’ again and again, into the animals and
plants, which they were creating. One of these beings is a mythical snake called Ungud,
which represents the water. From that snake originates an anthropomorphic called
Wandjina, representing rain and fertility. In the depth of wells, which resist the heat of the
summer, these two beings are incessantly creating so-called ‘spirit children’, souls of
children to be born.
To beget a child a man has to find such a soul or ‘spirit child’ first. He finds it in a particular
dream in which the name of the spirit child, containing the vital essence of the future child,
comes to his conscious mind. The aborigines maintain that to make such a ‘dream’ possible
sleep must not be too heavy. The name of the ‘spirit child’ goes first to the heart of the
dreamer and later into his head; he then is thinking like a white man, that is, he becomes
fully conscious of the name. A man lacking strength either in his heart or in his head cannot
keep the name and therefore cannot pass on that ‘spirit child’ to his wife. He then is incapable
of begetting a child and will try to borrow a spirit child’s name from a medicine-man.
The aborigines declare that such ‘child-dreams’ have become very rare to-day. Those who
work on stations say that heavy work exhausts them so that their sleep becomes too heavy.
They cannot catch the name of the ‘spirit child’ any more. Those of the hinterland say that
all their dreams are too much troubled by visions of the white man, of aeroplanes and
ships. So they always dream of these things and have no ‘child dreams’ any more.
Taking into account the extraordinary sensibility of the aborigines, we may assume that for
physical paternity a psychic disposition might well be indispensable for them, and we may
as well consider it as justified their reasoning about the causes of their falling birth-rates.
The disturbance caused by approaching modern culture by direct contact or even by
rumous may be sufficient to upset their emotional balance in such a degree that the psychic
disposition necessary for the physical act of generation will not be attained any more.
In a similar but less distinct way modern culture may act on other primitive peoples, whereas
reasoning may not be as clear as in this case. All the aborigines are inclined to regard
misadventures and accidents as the result of some magic action against them. The psychological
treatment of maladies or injuries is more important than the medical one. The magical
action of the possible enemy has to be counteracted by the magic of the medicine-man.
A group lives under the same fear as the individual. For instance, lack of success in hunting
Thus he sometimes is replaced by a younger man who speaks some English and is experienced
in the ways of the whites. This advantage, however, may be paid for by a loss of those
subtler qualities which distinguish a real medicine-man. It is not personality alone that
makes a medicine-man; tradition and circumstances require that he should undergo certain
special psychic experiences in order to be able to act. These alone guarantee the qualities
necessary to himself and to his fellow tribesmen, and it is here that the influence of the culture
makes itself felt: the psychic experiences which give a medicine-man his power are no
more attainable because the whole psychic atmosphere of the natives is disturbed.
Further, as soon as the medicine-man loses the ability to function as the centre of the
social organism, the organism dissolves. The psychic experiences were described to us
very exactly and mostly referred to as ‘dreams’. Informants were both older and younger
men. Some of them claimed to have had these experiences themselves, others modestly
admitted that they related experiences of others only. One Unambal and one Worora man
insisted on having undergone those experiences themselves and related the ‘dreams’ in
their own version.
The decisive experience or ‘dream’ is preceded by many others which are regarded as a
good omen. In them the dreamer sees himself back to his origin, in the water. He sees
many appearances, which are related to water, as water plants and trees growing at the
riverside. The decisive experience may plunge the dreamer in a sort of coma, which may
last for several days. During this the dreamer feels as though he were diving into the
deepest water. There he communicates with the first creative being: the Ungud-snake, who
endows him with special psychic powers. After these psychic experiences, a new medicine-man
is for some time the disciple of some older ones who teach him the practical tricks of the
routine work. Then he is regarded as ready.
The decisive experiences are described as follows : The soul of the man who is going to be
a medicine-man goes away from him. His body is lying there asleep. It is a heavy sleep,
and nobody dares to wake him up even if this sleep should last for several days. The soul
goes far away to the place from whence it originated. There in the depth it finds a brilliantly
lighted cave in which two snakes are copulating and incessantly engendering ‘spirit children’.
The descriptions of the decisive experiences never differentiate between physical and the
psychic existence. Generally the aborigines speak of how 'he' dives into the water, receives
the medicine and rises to the surface of the water again. Only after very exact questioning
it becomes clear that the body is lying asleep on the ground, whereas ‘he’ means the soul
which goes down to meet the Ungud-snake. For the aborigines there is no difference
between an experience during a dream and an experience in real life. Both spheres have
the same reality, and they are unable to separate them.
We may call this decisive experience a communication with the subconscious. The efficiency
of the medicine-man depends on his ability to communicate with his subconscious whenever
he wants to do so. As soon as the psychic balance of the aborigines is disturbed, the abilities
of the medicine-man seem to vanish and he is unable to function. If the disturbance is deep
enough, the development also of new medicine-men may be precluded.
It seems impossible for the younger generation to attain the necessary decisive psychic
experiences which make a medicine-man. There are other psychic experiences which
belong to the traditional abilities of a medicine-man. At present these seem to become rare
events, whereas in normal times in the past they seem to have been rather common. ‘Flying’ is
one of these experiences.
The medicine-man is believed to be able to send his soul away over long distances. The
soul sees everything that is going on in foreign countries and returns and relates it to him.
Generally, even normal dreams are regarded as journeys of the soul, and visions of the
dreamer are interpreted as adventures during these journeys. So the dreams of the
medicine-man can be regarded as particularly impressive and colourful psychic experiences.
Sometimes such dreams are dreamt collectively.
Several men led by a medicine-man fall in trance and have the same dream together at the
same time. During such a dream he destroys the soul of one of the men and enriches his
own psychic power by the sacrifice. We do not know the real nature of these ‘flying’
dreams and the ‘sacrifice’. We may regard it as a sort of transfer of psychic energy from one
individual to another, the loss of energy causing the death of the giver.
The fact that such experiences are so far unknown to us does not necessarily mean that
such an experience cannot exist elsewhere. In August 1938 I was told of such a ‘sacrifice’
by older Unambal men as follows (as usual the narrators made no difference between events
“The men sit down with the medicine-man and sing. The medicine-man takes a great snake
out of the water and the men sit themselves astride on it. The snake flies with them through
the air. After some time they arrive in a foreign land. They sit down around the snake. The
medicine-man takes a stone knife and kills one of the men. He cuts him into pieces and
gives those pieces to the snake. The other men sit around quietly and look on as the snake
swallows the pieces. Then they themselves also eat of the flesh of their fellow man. The
medicine-man cleans the bones of the killed one and lays them on the earth.
He lays them in the opposite way from what they should be laid in natural order. He lays
the thigh bones at the shoulder and vice versa. Then the other men return riding on the
flying snake; but the medicine-man remains with the skeleton. He sings magical songs
and the bones are re-covered with flesh. The killed one comes to life. The medicine-man
produces a second snake out of his navel and the two men ride home on this one. After
that all the men wake abruptly and do not know at the moment what has happened to
them. Only later they remember faintly all the events during their sleep. The sacrificed man
then dreams of a snake and dies in a few days.”
At present, these powers and phenomena are ceasing to be manifested. Always when
mentioning the medicine-men and their psychic power the aborigines emphasise the fact
that really great medicine-men do not exist any longer. The medicine-men themselves
agree modestly with this opinion and point out that without great medicine-men the
aborigines are going to vanish.
With approaching civilisation the psychic balance of these men is so much upset that they
are unable to have the same psychic experiences as their ancestors. To day, as they
become unable to 'dream', they are inclined to regard the stories as reports of events in the
real world. They expect their medicine-man to perform ‘diving, flying and sacrificing’ in a
visible and material way. Civilisation leads them towards a misinterpretation of their
original abilities.
In north-west Australia, for example, the white doctor nearly always appears in an aeroplane
at the settlements in case of an emergency. These planes were seen also by those aborigines
who in their lifetime never met a white man. They know from accounts of others that the
white men are able to fly. Now they expect their own medicine-men to do the same.
Moreover, the latter, believing that the medicine-men of old times could fly in reality, feel
themselves inferior.
When the story of the sacrifice was related to me, it was at once compared with an account
A New Cult. Besides the falling birth-rate, the destruction of the psychic atmosphere, and
the biological and social changes caused by contact with modern culture, there is a cultural
phenomenon of more positive aspect brought about by contact. A new cult is migrating
from one tribe to the other, combining old features with new ones. It seems to be a synthesis
of the old and the new way of life, a synthesis in genuine aboriginal style.
Possibly, dances and perhaps also cults migrating from tribe to tribe belong, as a structural
element, to the original culture of Australia. This migration seems to have connected tribes
with each other and to have conveyed new elements. This was obvious at least in the case
of the cult we observed in three tribes of northern Kimberley, where it showed considerable
strength and influence.
Coming to a tribe, this cult is attended by all the individuals with utmost concentration. The
traditional mythical ideas are not impaired. On the contrary, the new cult absorbs and
revitalises them. It is like a psychic wave, for at indeterminate intervals a new one may
appear and flow from tribe to tribe. This idea occurred to me when I learned that the cult
in question has been preceded by another one now out of date. Something of the nature
of the processes of assimilation and acculturation became understandable by observing this
cult. Its advent was known long before it actually arrived; people were psychologically
prepared for it, and its arrival brought about a new situation heralding possible developments.
Without this precaution he would kill all persons who were excluded from membership.
After being initiated properly, we had the opportunity to watch the initiation of some
Unambal men from the hinterland who had travelled to this place for several days with the
only purpose of participating in the new power. The dances and the initiation ceremony
arranged for them was, though somewhat more detailed, basically the same as that which
we had gone through.
The old trapper had never been initiated, and the cult as well as the slabs were kept away from
him though not very strictly. The whole cult was hidden absolutely, however, from the
missionary of the Kunmunja mission, Mr. Love, who had taught the aborigines not to mention
in his presence any sinful subject such as magic or sex. He thus had barred himself from any
deeper knowledge (though he was an expert as far as their material culture was concerned).
At the Kurrangara dancing ground at Wurewuri were assembled Unambal men with
Ungarinyin from Sale River Station and Worora from Kunmunya mission; the latter spoke
to us about the cult only after the repeated warning not to tell anything to the missionary.
With regard to their reactions to the cult, which was quite new to them, the Unambal were
especially interesting; they were deeply impressed and absorbed. The Ungarinyin, who
had known of the cult for some time, handed it on to their neighbours, acting as pre-emi-
nent men with a certain benevolent superiority.
Dr. H. Petri, the leader of our expedition, studied the Kurrangara cult in the Ungarinyin territory,
whereas I found an opportunity to do so chiefly with Unambal informants. Comparing our
notes later, we found that we had covered two different aspects of the cult, namely the full
development of it among the Ungarinjin and its initial phase among the Unambal, where
its relation to the preceding cult seemed to be comparatively clearly visible. The
Kurrangara myth as told by Unambal was linked with the myth of the preceding cult,
which, however, was already out of date for at least one generation, as only older people
could give any information about it. The slabs which were the symbol of the older cult
were said to have come from the home of a ghost in the north named Nguniai. Nguniai was
regarded as inventor of many tools and laws, and even the invention of circumcision was
ascribed to him. He has human appearance; only at his elbows, long and sharp knives stand out.
The more modern cult is connected with the older one by its myth. Tjanba, the ghost
producing slabs for this cult, is a son of Nguniai. He migrated from north to south and is
believed to live in the southern desert today, from where the Kurrangara slabs are coming.
The Kurrangara slabs follow exactly the way of the slabs of the older cult mentioned above
only in the opposite direction. Thus they will naturally one day reach the region inhabited by
Nguniai. The moment Nguniai sees the first of his son’s slabs he will stop producing them
himself and then, the myth concludes, life on earth will come to an end.
In the myth of Tjanba, some of the characteristics of this ghost are borrowed from modern
culture : his house is of corrugated iron and below it grow poisonous weeds. Tjanba is able
to impart the hitherto unknown diseases of leprosy and syphilis by means of little sticks
which have lain in those weeds overnight. Men who possess Kurrangara slabs are able to
infect other people. Tjanba hunts with a rifle and ornaments his slabs with iron tools. To
distribute his slabs to men (some of his slabs are stolen, others he himself sends out) he
uses aeroplanes, motor cars and steamers. When showing the slabs to his fellow ghosts, he
asks them for tea, sugar and bread.
Following the myth, the modern cult demands exuberant feasts with tea, sugar, bread and
as much beef as possible but no meat of any indigenous animal. The cult places have to be
in the vicinity of stations. The cult language is pidgin-English. The cult is directed by a
‘boss,’ the slabs are stored away by a ‘clerk,’ the feasts are announced by a ‘mailman,’ and
order and discipline during them is maintained by some specially appointed ‘pickybas’ (from
police-boys).
The Kurrangara cult, which absolutely excludes women, intensifies the cultural life of the
aborigines and temporarily brings back something similar to the psychic atmosphere of the
old time, though in a somewhat sinister version. The former medicine-man is replaced by
the ‘boss.’ The introduction into the cult replaces the former initiation and makes the deepest
impression on individuals, who at this moment believe themselves to be face to face with
a power that at will distributes life and death.
The ‘boss’ has the power to kill and to heal, to infect other people with, or protect his
adherents against, leprosy and syphilis. His methods are essentially the same as those of
the old medicine-men; only the symbols have changed. It is now no longer the snake-Ungud,
but the Kurrangara slab which incorporates life and death. Those slabs sometimes bigger
The new conception of time clearly shows the new psychic condition of the aborigines: the
preponderance of the subconscious (expressed in the importance of the past and the ‘eternal
dream time’) gives way to a stronger degree of consciousness which has arisen through
their altered relation to time and environment. They now are far more conscious of their
actual living conditions, as well as of themselves. One can note the faint beginning of a
feeling of racial homogeneity.
This feeling could, under different circumstances, be the beginning of a new cultural activity
but, in the circumstances, it does not hold any promise for the future. The future is felt to
be extremely dark, and a deep melancholy and apathy are salient characteristics of the present
attitude. This attitude finds its artistic expression in the Kurrungara myth and dances an
expression darkened still more by additional mythological features linked with the cult.
The Unambal informants, who were deeply impressed by the approaching end of the
world, told me that this is going to be announced by the arrival of different Kurrangara
slabs sent out by Tjanba’s wife. As soon as these slabs are distributed the social order will
be completely reversed: women will take the place of men; they will arrange the feasts and
hand on the slabs, whereas the men will gather edible roots, without being allowed to
participate in the feasts. My informants used to speak of these inevitable events with serious
apprehension and to link them with another cult, which they expected soon to arrive from
the north, but of which some already claimed to know the essentials.
This newest cult was called Maui, and despite the fact that it was to come from the north it
was regarded as something very similar to the cult of Tjanba’s wife. Maui also was associated
with venereal diseases, and I was told that its poison made these diseases spread.
Kurrangara and the approaching Maui were both regarded as dangerous and they both
made the aborigines concentrate on the imminent future, which was believed to be the end
of everything alive.
ANDREAS LOMMEL.