Taj and the Great Camel Trek (7 page)

The sixteenth day of June was a dreadful day. Mr Giles was riding on ahead when Tommy jumped off Salmah and raced after Mr Giles.

‘Maadha! Boss!' he called. ‘Me find big gabi, makka minya, not little watta.' Tommy led us all to the spot. There was some rainwater lying in the rocks. Mr Giles frowned when he saw it. It wasn't ‘big' water at all, but the camels licked it up, so we camped there.

Mustara was eating a low growing tree with leaves like green fringes. Mr Giles said it had a look of fennel but I had never seen it before nor heard of fennel. By the time we had finished our supper, Mustara began groaning. Not his usual camel talk – this was fearsome.

It reminded me of Sher Khan, a magnificent breeding bull we had at Beltana when I was younger. One night after he had been in the desert he groaned like Mustara. He was my mother's favourite, and Padar tried to help him, but Sher Khan didn't survive.

‘Padar, what can we do?'

He stood to go to Mustara but he hesitated and laid his hand on my head. If we couldn't save Sher Khan at Beltana what hope had we to save Mustara in the desert? My feelings must have shown. ‘Do not fear, beta. We will do all we can. Mustara is in the hands of Allah.'

We went together to comfort Mustara. He couldn't even stand; he was like a newborn calf, his legs crumbling beneath him. I patted his neck and talked to him while Padar pressed his hand into Mustara's middle. It made Mustara bellow. ‘Butter,' Padar muttered. ‘Get butter and mustard.'

When I brought some back from Peter, Padar told me what to do: ‘Heat it and mix it with water.'

I held a billy over the campfire, stirred the mixture and let it cool. It smelt vile but I carried it to Mustara and rolled a piece of leather into a cone. That way I forced the mixture down his throat while Padar held his mouth open. I doubt Padar would have been strong enough if Mustara had been fully grown. I was surprised how much he fought. Most of it poured in until he closed off his throat and blew out the rest.

I waited, praying it would work. Then I heard a gurgle in Mustara's stomach. ‘Quickly!' Padar helped me steady Mustara while he vomited up a green mess. Poor Mustara. We waited, listening to his groaning. I
didn't think I could bear it any longer when there came a sound like a flash flood tearing down a dry creek bed. A pile of evil smelling mess oozed out under Mustara's backside.

Oh, what if he died? Allah, be merciful.
But Allah has ideas of his own; he never answered my prayer when my mother went away. I forced those thoughts out of my mind. It was Mustara I had to think of now.

Mustara's groaning stopped but I couldn't tell if it was because the pain was less or because he was weaker. His bottom lip hung straight down; I had never seen it do that before. I knelt beside him while Padar checked on the other camels. Mustara laid his neck on the ground and stayed very still.

Later, Alec walked over with his book and a candle. ‘How is he?' I recognised the concern in his voice and didn't know how to answer. It was up to God if Mustara lived or died. Talking about it wouldn't help.

‘Mustara is a clever camel.' Alec said it so softly and kindly that I buried my face in Mustara's fur. God was merciful in the dust storm at Beltana, perhaps he would be again. Padar said all the camels were special but even he thought Mustara was more special than most. Mustara was going to be the sire of the herd I would breed later on – a bull like Sher Khan.

Alec put both his arms around me and held me tightly as Afghan men do. It squeezed the tears from me
and then he left. I knew I wouldn't sleep. I lay next to Mustara, in case he needed help in the night.

Mustara didn't die overnight, Al hum du lillah, Praise be to God, but he wasn't out of the woods either as Peter put it. Two bulls, Malik and Rajah, were also sick in the morning. Mr Giles called the plant gynostemn. He said a few other words too, words that I'd heard a stockman at Beltana say when a horse kicked him. Malik and Rajah were not as sick as Mustara. Padar said it was because they were bigger. Mustara's eyes looked at me as if I wasn't helping him enough; I could barely stand it.

He had struggled to his feet that morning but what if he couldn't keep up with the string? Port Augusta was too far away for us to travel back by ourselves. Malik and Rajah were groaning when Mr Giles came to inspect them. He pulled on his moustaches and strode back and forth, watching them. ‘What will happen to us without the camels? Oh, how I longed for camels,' he said.

‘We must stay another day for the bulls to regain their strength but we cannot risk the others eating that infernal plant.' Mr Giles fixed his gaze on me and I forced myself not to look away. ‘Taj, you watch the camels. If any of them stray near that outcrop of poisonous plants shoo them off.'

‘Yes, sir.' Then he did something unexpected. He
brought his hand down onto my shoulder. It made me feel that Padar had just laid his hand on my head in blessing. ‘I hope Mustara gets better, Taj. He is a fine camel.'

I could hardly say thank you, I was so astonished he would speak to me like that. All day Mr Giles strode up and down, and continually watched the camels even though he had ordered me to do it.

The next morning I awoke and wondered what I would find. Mustara was my first concern but when I greeted him, he grunted with his usual affection. I couldn't help laughing. Alec heard me and immediately came over. ‘I'm so glad he's better, Taj.'

Malik and Rajah growled when I checked on them but they too were mending. There were no fresh cases of poisoning and Mr Giles was so relieved he gave an instant order to leave. It was difficult to concentrate on what I was to do. My brain was like sand trickling through a crack in the ground. Padar had to tell me twice to round up the well camels and help load the bags onto them.

Tommy came to help without anyone telling him to. That surprised me. He never said a word, just grinned at me, but he didn't make me annoyed. Together we re-arranged the loads to be as light as possible for the sick camels.

That afternoon as we travelled, Mustara was so much
stronger that I risked riding him. He almost kicked up his legs and danced as he would when Emmeline and I rode him into the desert near Beltana. That used to make Emmeline laugh.

We passed a sandalwood tree where Mr Giles had put a horse's pack saddle on his earlier expedition. The saddle was of no use but we kept the horse hair it was stuffed with to make cushions so the baggage camels wouldn't get sores.

Mustara and I and the sick bulls were at the end of the string and we arrived an hour after the others. They were camped five miles from Mount Finke and most of the unloading was already done. Jess Young called Alec a camellia because he helped so much with the camels but Alec just laughed. At times like that he reminded me of Emmeline.

Perhaps it was from relief that we were away from the poisonous plants that we sang songs and told stories around the campfire. Padar had told me when he was on Mr Warburton's expedition the camel drivers had their own fire but Mr Giles said it was best to eat and sleep together since there were only eight of us. ‘It will save on wood too,' he'd said.

Jess Young played a song called ‘Cockles and Mussels'. It didn't take Mr Tietkens long to sing: ‘In Dublin's fair city, where the girls are so pretty, I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone.'

Jess Young and Mr Giles joined in together: ‘Crying cockles and mussels, alive, alive oh!'

My heart had almost stopped beating. I had such a recollection of my mother that it was all I could do to stay seated at the fire. I glanced at Padar; he had stopped puffing on his pipe and was staring into the fire. Suddenly, he looked up and saw me staring at him. His eyes were too bright, his mouth sagged. Why did the song affect us so? Did my mother sing it? I couldn't remember exactly. There was so much I couldn't remember and I should have. It was as though the memories dammed up when my mother left. The song was about Molly Malone, a fisherman's daughter. She died of a fever and no one could save her. Could I dare ask Padar about it?

There was only time next morning to see to the camels. As I rode, I despaired of knowing how to speak to Padar about my mother but even these thoughts were chased away by rain. We were almost to Wynbring and Mr Giles threw up his hat, caught it again, and began to shout. Water fell out of the sky so fast that the camels could drink it at their feet. They broke their nose ropes and lay down so they could reach it easier. Padar and I watched them carefully, for loaded camels have a rope across their chests and can't easily put their heads to the ground without hurting themselves. I saw a bull at Beltana cut himself from doing so.

When the rain ceased we made it to Mr Giles' old campsite. Wynbring was a granite rock at least fifty feet high. Tommy was animated. ‘This country my mother – mother closest fella to us.' I nodded for Padar also said his mother was his closest relative. It was interesting, for Tommy seemed to be saying that the land was something he belonged to rather than the other way round.

I helped the men put up the canvas tents and tarpaulins over the equipment. We weren't quite finished when another heavy shower came down, but no one grumbled. We were happy for the rain, as the rock hole was overflowing and water lay everywhere. If this was what it would always be like in the desert the trek to Perth would be easy.

Jess Young had been looking around him and he addressed Mr Giles, ‘How on earth did you escape alive from this abominable hellhole in the hot weather?'

No one answered him but I saw the red look on Mr Giles' face. Perhaps he noticed the undercurrent of Jess Young's tone for I heard it too. Was he showing disrespect?

Alec murmured to me, ‘Mr Giles survived because he is a good bushman.'

I agreed, for Mr Giles even knew we were near Wynbring before we arrived. ‘How did he find this place?' I asked Alec.

‘He reads maps.' Alec can read them too, so I decided that after I could read words I would ask Alec to show me how to read maps. They would be helpful in the desert if I had to take a camel string to a new place, perhaps to Perth.

Peter cooked our dinner in a tent in case it rained again. Tommy and I had to stand and watch with water in billies in case the tent caught fire. It took Peter a long
time to coax the flames to life from the damp wood. Then he cooked the damper in the hot sand amongst the ashes. ‘It stays hotter this way,' he explained. He had ideas about the wood to use also. ‘This black oak's better than mulga for it burns to a white ash. Then the damper don't burn.' I watched and learnt from Peter just as I did from Alec and Padar.

After our dinner of damper and stewed salted beef that I wasn't too fond of, Mr Giles told us we could stay there for a few days. ‘My friends will have a few days' rest because they have had such poor feeding places the last few nights.'

Padar and I exchanged a look that only we knew the meaning of. Friends? Mr Giles didn't mean us or the other men. He was talking about the camels.

It was Jumah – our holy day again – the twenty-fifth day of June. Jess Young shot an emu in the morning and Padar raced over in time to slit its throat so that he and I could eat it too. Jess Young was used to Padar doing that, though he still teased us. Tommy and I were set to plucking again but it was not an easy job. Emu feathers are large, and those ones stuck to the bird like desert weed in a rock. Tommy was strong but we both grunted as we pulled.

There wasn't time for much conversation but I asked him about Fowler's Bay. ‘Will you stay with your family
when we get there?' I told myself I was just making conversation, that his answer had no relation to my feelings.

Tommy rolled his eyes at me. ‘Not me,' he said. When I roll my eyes like that behind Padar's back it means I'm annoyed with him, but Tommy looked frightened. I couldn't ask why, for Tommy suddenly turned the emu over and we were busy for the next half an hour.

When we finished, Peter sharpened his knife and sliced the bird into steaks. The hard work was worth it. At the campfire Padar said the meat tasted lazeeze; that's delicious in Persian.

As we were eating, Mr Giles managed to upset Tommy. I thought Tommy would never get upset. Mr Giles was wiping his fingers as he spoke. ‘Tommy, I want you to find the Wynbring natives in the morning.'

Tommy sat still a moment.

‘They should be able to tell us if any more water holes exist in this area,' Mr Giles added.

Tommy stood up and started to talk quickly in Wirangu. His hands spoke too. It made us all stop chewing just to watch.

Mr Giles took a mug of tea from Peter. ‘Whatever's the matter, Tommy?'

‘Why you no ask me, boss. I know many big watta – this my country. No need ask other blackfellas.'

Tommy showed all his fingers and said the names of eight water places on the way to a place called Youldeh.
Mr Giles smiled to hear of all those places and Tommy looked happier. I glanced at Padar and saw his frown. I wondered if there would be more water at them than the last place Tommy said he had found ‘big' water.

Mr Giles had been on the lookout for Tommy's people but none of them had showed up. ‘Tommy's old Uncle Jimmy said that the girls in his family were very pretty and that I should marry one called Mary and Peter should marry Jinny.

‘Why haven't they come?' Mr Giles asked Tommy, but he just rolled his eyes.

‘There is a lovely young girl called Polly who we met along this track last time. Do you remember, William?' Mr Giles turned to Mr Tietsken.

‘What a pity,' Jess Young said, ‘I'd like to see a pretty native.' Perhaps he wanted to get married too. It made me think. I had never asked Padar how he met my mother. Perhaps that's how I could start.

‘Could you tell a story?' I asked Padar.

Padar had nearly finished his mug of tea, but he didn't rush. He was thinking of what to say, for now all the men were waiting, even Mr Giles who usually took his books out after eating. Padar cleared his throat. He didn't talk about my mother and I was glad after all. No, Padar told us how he lost his finger.

‘It was the year 1872 and Mr Warburton, he came to Beltana for camels,' Padar began. ‘Haleem and I and
seventeen of Mr Elders' camels went with him to Alice Springs. Then in April of the next year we set out for the west.

‘It was a harsh land across the Sandy Desert. Camels, some we lost, some died and some we ate. Haleem and I, we tried to find water. We all had the scurvy and I was so sick I could not use my arms or legs. Allah be praised I became stronger but the camels, they got weaker from lack of food and water. Soon there were only two camels left.

‘Snakes and scorpions crawled everywhere in our camp when we stopped. In the old country I could charm snakes and so I tried to charm the snakes from the men's blankets. But alas I could not charm scorpions and one night when I was asleep one stung me on the finger. The pain, it was very bad and my arm would not move. But we kept walking towards the coast.

‘When we reached Roebourne we had travelled 4,000 miles across the desert. Mr Warburton could see from one eye only, and my finger, it had to be cut off to save my life.'

There was silence when Padar stopped talking. I saw the faint lines of worry on Jess Young's face. Then Alec spoke. ‘What a good thing we have Mr Giles to lead us, Saleh. He will be able to find water in the desert.'

No one else said a word, not even Mr Giles. Everyone stayed silent with their thoughts while they slurped their tea or coffee.