I Am An Old Woman

• Ayla Hay, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2008

I am an old woman, living at a camp that is still strange ever after all these years. Let me tell you my story.

“Good Morning husband. Did you sleep well?” I asked
“Yes, did you?”
“Yes. Would you like breakfast?”
“Yes”

“Thank you wife, that was nice, I’m off hunting” and he left with all the other men of my camp. I woke the children up and cleaned the hut. Once they had eaten, all the women and all the children left to go to the waterhole. My husband’s second wife and I helped clean all our kids together. Some of the older women decided to stay behind to look after the children while the rest of the women left to go for food.

Suddenly I was grabbed. One hand went over my mouth to prevent me yelling and the other across my stomach. I was unable to call for help. The man pushed me into a canoe and got in with me. We travelled down stream for a long time. Eventually we arrived at their camp. I felt very scared. My skin colour was a lot lighter compared to theirs. Their spirit man had white paintings all over his body.

“What have you here?” he asked in a different tongue. I understood very little of it.
“I have stolen a woman. She was collecting food”
“Let me ask the spirits what to do” he said.

He drew a circle around himself. Suddenly he started singing and dancing.
“Hiya, huma oh greats spirits” he sang as he danced.
“Yes, she is allowed in our camp,” he said after while. “Someone will have to teach her our tongue”

Many days later, I had mastered their language and was able to communicate. The man that was promised to be my husband was kind to me and often talked to me. Surprisingly he didn’t have another wife. Soon we were married and after 9 months, I gave birth to a daughter. He was very happy.

One day while I was at home, looking after my 3 children, a young boy came running into the camp.
“Come quick, your husband has been hurt very badly,” he panted
I jumped up immediately and hurried after the boy. When we arrived at the waterhole I saw my husband covered in blood.
“What happened?” I asked kneeling next to him
“He was attacked by wild dogs,” said a man.
I felt him face, it was cold and his eyes were lifeless. He had died looking at my face.

Today I lie on my bed. As I lie on my bed, I ponder the fate that had me taken from my tribe to the new one and although I missed the children from my first tribe I am content. I am waiting for death to come, I am at peace…

A short aboriginal story.

By Ayla Hay year 10. Aged 16. Yarram Secondary Collage.