In the time of dreaming, Ngilgi, a good spirit, chased Wolgine, an evil spirit, into a cave. The pair fought, and as it happened, Ngilgi defeated Wolgine. After their battle, Ngilgi banished Wolgine, who burst out of the Yallingup cave he had hidden in, and disappeared from Ngilgi’s region forever.
Now a lost and wandering spirit, Wolgine ‘the banished one’ left his beautiful home, moving north from his place of plenty, and headed inland, away from his beloved ocean. Over many, many Yallingup season’s, his name was forgotten. Through his wandering, he saw many tribes and people, he tried to join them in their ways and their laws, yet none would accept him; again and again he was forced to leave them, wandering further north and east, finally arriving at a place where the tribes who lived there had never seen the ocean, and lived in a place desolate and tired. Very little grew there, there were none of the creatures of the sea that he loved to eat, all he could find were screeching pink and grey galahs which held very little nourishment; the cancer bushes he tried to eat were harsh, and their bitterness made him ill; kangaroo’s lived there, and he hunted them as they slept under trees and bushes, but the kangaroo ticks jumping on him from the scrub around the kangaroo’s, buried their horrible heads under his skin, and made him sicker again.
Becoming a dying spirit, starved and sick, without a name or home, with no one left to believe in him, he eventually died, his evil spirit left his form, and went back into the place where the sun came up from every morning. Because he was an evil spirit, evil came from him, spreading in the earth turning him to salt. And he, Wolgine the banished one, slowly killed her with his salt, salt that killed the tree’s, and poisoned the creeks and water holes where he fell. The ground his spirit entered, where it was not salt, became hard, and water could not penetrate it as it once did. Bush fires started because the country was so dry all of the time. Huge floods occurred every time big rains came, washing the tribes away, killing the trees and animals, forcing the seasons to change, making the desolate place a dead place.
Life for the tribes and people became very hard, and eventually, the elder’s stopped living as long as they once had, the tribes memories and stories and learning slowly became lost. Being fewer people to raid from, there were not enough women to take, and so less piccaninnies were born, and eventually the good people and tribes left their land. Only the very worst remained, only the outcasts, only the banished. Then, after not very long, many bad one’s, cowards who escaped spearing as was the lore they ran from, and would not face, moved there.
All because of Wolgine, the banished one.
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