This documentary by Malcolm Douglas, filmed in the Kimberley region of Western Australia in 1976, captures the traditional hunting, survival, and cultural practices of Aboriginal people, revealing how ancient knowledge systems—including spear-making techniques, bushcraft, and traditional food preparation—are rapidly disappearing as younger generations transition to modern lifestyles. The film documents the Warora and Wanimul tribes, showcasing their sophisticated understanding of the Australian landscape, including controlled burning practices, traditional fishing methods, and the complex cultural laws governing their way of life, while also highlighting the health challenges like leprosy that continue to affect Indigenous communities.
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The Last Of A Tribe By Malcolm DouglasAdded:
After 30,000 years in Australia, the hunting skills and survival techniques of the original inhabitants, the aboriges, are rapidly disappearing. With the arrival of the European settlers, the ancient lifestyle changed. Until today, there are few Aborigines who hunt with their spears and live on their tribal lands.
During the dry season of 1976, I camped with a small group of these people in the central Kimbley region of Western Australia. And this film is a record of my experiences with these remarkable people. It all started back in 1971 when I drove through the Kimbley while producing another film called Follow the Sun. This time I'm hoping to retrace my original route and reach the far western coast to fish for Baramandi and visit an Aboriginal friend of mine, Watti Nerdu.
Watty has recently resettled his tribal lands, establishing a cattle station, and I'm interested to see how he's progressing. Some of Wat's relatives are camped along the way, and I plan to stop at their camp and get a report on the track west.
There's the camp now, just ahead.
Everyone greets us as the Land Rover slows to a halt.
Ordo and Collier welcome me warmly.
Kim Allen, my traveling companion, is most intrigued by the kangaroo, cooked, wrapped, ready for delivery.
Almost immediately, I'm confronted with the problems ahead. Collier explains that the trek through to the coast is in a terrible state. The last cyclone washed out long sections and many large trees are down. There's no way we can get through towing my boat. If I want to see Wy and catch those baramundi, we'll have to return south and travel up along the coast in the boat. But before turning back, we're invited to stay a while in this camp. And as it turns out, it's an unforgettable experience. These people, members of the Warora and Wanimul tribes, have recently left the towns and return to the bush to work, to hunt, and find peace. Daily, the men go off looking for game and rarely return empty-handed. Spears are still used, although the rifle is fast replacing them. Ordo has just brought in two wild turkeys. This will be the main meal for the day.
It's now late in the dry season and there's always a chance of an early thunderstorm. So Kim collects large sheets of paper bark for a shelter. This is the material that the Aborigines have always used for bedding, for wrapping possessions and food, and for housing.
Within half an hour, Kolia has shown Kim how to build a secure and highly functional hut. Until recently, these dwellings were always constructed during the wet season.
Another skill that is rapidly dying out is the manufacturer of spears. Here, Collia is using a kangaroo bone to flake a piece of quartz, producing a razor sharp spear tip.
Once he's satisfied with the shape and size, the tip is fixed into position with a resin obtained from Spin Effects plants. The resin is soft and pliable when hot, but as it cools, it hardens to hold the stone tip securely in place.
These aboriges use an exceptionally long spear thrower or wmer. It enables a thrower to launch the spear with tremendous power and accuracy, such as the force that the spear bends as it whips from the wmer.
When the men hunt, they prefer to travel in groups, seeking out kangaroos and other animals. This party's just located a flying fox colony. They don't use their spears to hunt the bats, preferring to hurl short, well-balanced sticks of their prey.
In this area, boomerangs were never used for hunting. These large bats live in huge, noisy colonies, sleeping during the day and flying off at dusk in search of ripening fruit and flowers.
When surprised, flying foxes take off screeching. Any that swoop too close to the ground or fail to gain height crash awkwardly into the treetops and are quickly and skillfully knocked down.
All game that the Aborigines hunt is killed immediately with a club or stick.
This may appear cruel, but if an animal must be hunted for food, it should be killed as quickly as possible. It could escape, and the man has a family to feed.
The bats are not skinned or cleaned in any way. The only preparation before cooking is the addition of certain varieties of eucalyptus leaves to the fire to give a flavor. A bit like adding herbs to a stew. The paper bark and sand covering retains the heat for this popular method of cooking.
Come on.
Beep.
An hour later, dinner is served. And it's obvious that the Aborigines prefer their meat rare.
In the late afternoon, I sit with Ordo and Collia and enjoy this primitive meal. Flying fox is an extremely rich meat, and although I find them tasty, I do like them prepared with a little more care. Skinned, roasted, and curried.
Fortunately, Judy, my kelpy pup, is happy to accept anything going.
After tea, Collier gives his pup a drink of water and a shower. The pup is not impressed with the cool treatment.
This very aggressive and irate goanna is in trouble. The aboriges want him to eat and I want him alive for a museum specimen. For a few minutes, it looks as though the Goana will be the winner. But then he dives for his burrow.
Ordo is determined not to let a good feed escape him. And for the next two hours, we dig.
Ordo listens for the slightest sound and at last pinpoints the exact position of his quarry and digs straight down.
And now Ordo applies a little science.
reflecting the rays of the sun from the top of his cigarette tin into the hole.
He sees the end of the tail just where he wants to grab it.
I ask Ordu why he doesn't just kill the lizard before pulling it out and he replies that the Wenbull always do it this way. Another tribe over near the Fitzroy River kill the Goana in the hole. So once again I find an example of the complex laws covering all aspects of the Aboriginal way of life.
The women too spend considerable time collecting food. They take me to a hive of the native bee, a small inoffensive insect that cannot sting, which makes it a lot easier to collect the honey and wax.
The honey or sugar bag as all Aborigines in the north call it is a favorite food.
This is only a small hive and won't produce much. When the honey is eaten, the wax is collected for use in the manufacturer of artifacts.
After the sticky work for hours in the hot sun, the women relax and wash in one of the many small permanent creeks.
These creeks have an abundance of food to offer. Here, the women are gathering water lily bulbs. The stem below the small narrow yellow flower on the surface is followed down to the bulb below in the mud. When food is scarce, these bulbs are collected in huge quantities. Roasted on the coals, they taste very much like sweet potato.
Ordo, Jarry and Adi have been out hunting and have arrived back with a kangaroo, the main source of meat for these people.
Even the preparation of this animal is always carried out according to tribal custom.
A very small incision is made in the stomach for the removal of the intestines.
Hardi excavates an oven deep enough for the carcass.
The intestines, a delicacy, are carefully rolled for cooking. A good big toe is essential equipment for this job.
Wood selected for its heating properties is fired beside the oven to produce very hot coals. The small incision in the stomach is closed and the fur singed off.
The tail which will be cooked separately is removed with an iron tipped spear head.
Finally, the kangaroo is covered with hot coals and sand and left for several hours.
Remove the sand and dinner's ready.
One of the diseases that took a heavy toll of the Aboriginal population was leprosy. And even today, it's a major health problem. Adi, a happy, easygoing man, is worried. His badly clawed hands have broken out in sores again. probably when he was scraping the sand from the ground oven.
Kim's father, a doctor, has supplied us with a comprehensive range of medicines.
There's little Kim can do in this case but dress the wounds. Ardy knows that he'll have to return to the derby leproserium. We heard later that a number of his fingers would have to be amputated.
Female kangaroos are better for eating, but it's the big males that are prized for their tail senus, for the bindings used in spear making.
When the longest senus are pulled out, Ordo chews them to make them pliable, then wraps them around a spear shaft to dry. Before a female kangaroo is cooked, the longer whiter fur is collected for spinning.
Sand is rubbed into the hair to give it a better grip.
Spinning any kind of short hair is difficult. Yet these women make it look so simple.
Before European clothes were introduced, every adult wore a pubic covering made from spun kangaroo fur attached to a plattered human hair belt. Today, these are rarely worn except by the very old or during ceremonies.
One of the last of the old tribesmen is Umboguan, a frail old man. Now he's chewing white clay into a paste to make a stencil of his hand.
Aboriginal stencils have aroused considerable interest throughout Australia because they're more commonly found than any other type of cave painting.
Evidently, the Aborigines have always left these personal prints as a record of their having been in the caves and possibly too as a contact with their spiritual ancestors. I felt very honored and fortunate indeed to be able to record this event with the last of the bushmen.
As the old man moves off, he notices a frilled dragon. The younger people no longer eat these, but the old man remembers times when he hadn't eaten for many days, and he won't pass up a feed.
Wow. Wow.
In time, this pictograph will fade and disappear just as the tribes and their culture will finally vanish.
The oldest woman still active in the camp is May Wangan. She twists bark into string for binding the handle of a stone axe that she's making for me.
Wangan remembers the time before the introduction of the steel tomahawk when everyone carried a stone axe.
In this tribe, stone axe making is women's work. And Wangan fashions the article skillfully using the sweet smelling beeswax that we collected earlier.
This is a rare opportunity for me to obtain a genuine implement.
Digery dues are now world famous, but few people have ever seen one actually made. Ordo is out looking for the raw material. Wandering from tree to tree, he looks for signs of disease in the leaves and taps the trunk. Alert for a hollow sound. Termites, often called white ants, live in colonies, gradually eating out the core of a tree. The timber is scraped and smoothed and the dead wood removed.
Red ochre or a mixture of charcoal and tree resin is used for coloring.
Finally, tribal patterns are added for decoration.
Digery dues from this remote Kimbley camp are being manufactured for sale throughout the world.
From time immemorial, the Aborigines have engaged in controlled burning to make it easier for walking, to flush out game, and to attract certain species to the burntout areas. It's been said that over the centuries the Aborigines have altered the ecosystem of Australia this way. Ordo is burning not far from the camp to attract bustards, the big wild turkeys. They arrive to feed on the burnt insects.
These dosile birds are rigidly protected and only the aboriges are allowed to take them. Within a fortnight, green shoots appear, attracting the kangaroos.
Two of the young men are going to hunt them. Before they go, Yalotti and Nandet rub ant bed over their bodies, partly as camouflage and to disguise the human odor which the kangaroos would detect on the wind.
Yaotti jams a green leaf in the spear end. This will stop the wood squeaking and the spear will fit the wmer more securely.
Patiently they move forward, progressing only when the kangaroos lie dozing in the shade. The men hunt in the heat of the day when the kangaroos are least active.
Ahead in the long spear grass is a big rue, but it spots them. Spears fly and the chase is on.
This big male was also brought down a non and it prepares it for cooking.
He rips out the liver, then unself-consciously satisfies his thirst and hunger.
Most people are appalled at the thought of drinking blood, but it's very nourishing and high in food value.
Towards the end of the dry season, the beautiful Kimberly bibongs make a cool contrast to the dry plains and stony country. There's nothing like a feed of waterlies to balance the diet.
As the months pass without rain, many of the streams and bibongs shrink to shallow pools. The crocodiles, turtles, and the fish can be pursued, and for a time, the Aborigines hunt them relentlessly. Ordo and I are after black brim, a common fish and good to eat.
With our spears, we push the scum from the surface and at the same time shepherd the fish into the shallows where they're easily speared.
A turtle hunt is always Good, clean fun.
These reptiles are caught at the end of the dry season before the rains swell the rivers to flood again. Camouflaged against the rocks on the bottom, the turtles are well concealed.
We form a chain across the pool, groping along the bottom. As the turtles double back past us, we grab them.
goat.
This specimen won't be eaten. It's off to the Australian Museum in Sydney.
Freshwater turtles are rich in fat and protein.
The most dangerous reptile hunted in the backwaters is the crocodile.
Yai, Yandet, Manmara, and Bolingon are after them.
The crocs sun themselves on sandy banks and at the slightest hint of danger hurtle into the water.
You make it.
Old Bowlingong is the very last Aboriginal to have spent his life in the bush. Only as recently as 1976, when his last wife died, he moved from his secret camp to be with his fellow tribesmen.
Sadly, he recently had a stroke and is no longer the strong, able bushman he used to be.
These Johnston River crocodiles, fish eaters, easily recognized by the long, thin snout, are shy creatures and will not, under normal circumstances attack humans.
Back in camp, Ordo is preparing fire making sticks.
First, a groove is cut into a long piece of wood. Then, another longer straight piece is rounded at the end and fitted into the groove. The stone is used to collect the glowing wood dust.
In less than a minute, the dust begins to smolder and overflows onto the stone.
When the Aborigines live in the towns, there is little traditional singing and dancing.
Usually they're too despondent because of the overwhelming social problems, especially the excessive drinking. Out here in the bush, there's a different atmosphere and the people often sing and perform corroberies. Dan is preparing paper bark for a corrobery that is beheld in a few days time.
The string that she's dying will be used to hold paper bark hats in place.
Aboriges from properties all over the Kimbley have gathered for this, the biggest festival in years.
>> No sacred dances will be performed. It will all be purely for fun and everyone's in high spirits.
Night.
>> My Land Rover mirror is in great demand backstage in the makeup department.
When the sun is low and the heat of the day passed, the dancers move to an open area near the camp and the story begins.
In the northern Kimbley near the coast, two warriors meet and exchange greetings. They decide to join forces to see what they can find.
Meanwhile, down on the beach, a young man has just speared a dug gong.
He wakes his old and feeble father and tells him the good news.
The old man is delighted. He picks up the dong and they head for home to feast on the fresh meat.
On the way, the warriors, having assembled a war party, confront them and carry off the duong, leaving the frail old man and his son with nothing.
>> The corrobery choreographed by Nalgodi is based on a dream about a childhood experience. Although he lives hundreds of kilometers from the sea, he visited the coast once with his family and camped with the coastal tribes. From this experience, he constructs the story in dance and song.
Every show has its clowns, and these two have dressed to amuse. The masks are a recent introduction of their great fun.
This pantoime is acted purely for the mernt of the audience.
The dancing, a farewell to us, continues late into the night. And after many exciting weeks, we're on the move again.
Heading south to the coast.
Out on the plains south of the Kimbley Ranges, we drive through a blazing scrub fire.
We stop to save as many animals as we can and collect the rarer species. As the fire races through the last of the spin effects bushes beside the road, all kinds of reptiles are driven into the open. A centrilan blue tongue lizard, a Burton's legless lizard, and a Gilbert's dragon.
This blackheaded python is lucky.
Bewildered by the heat, it actually heads back into the burning spin effects, then retreats just as Kim comes to its rescue.
This frilled lizard is getting close to a roasting. When I grab him, the flames are already leaping around my legs. He's hardly a grateful survivor, though.
These common but rarely seen Burton's legless lizards are quite harmless.
They're often killed, mistaken for snakes.
The blue tongue skink is a slowmoving, inoffensive creature.
Its threat display, a continual flickering of the tongue and the inhalation of air to enlarge its body, is pure pretense.
Hundreds of these skinks are driven onto the road. Under normal conditions, these two would never meet at such close quarters. But here, a territorial scuffle ensues.
As soon as the flames subside, and even while the blackened aftermath still smolders, the reptiles scurry back into whatever cover they can find. To stay in the open would mean almost certain death. Hovering overhead are the scavenging hawks and crows.
Sadly, whenever there is a bush fire, the toll is high. This handful is just a sample of the number we saw burnt to death.
On a happier note, we finally reached the sea near Broom, where earlier we had launched the boat for the production of my other film, Beyond the Kimberly Coast. This time, we'll be making a dash even further up the coast.
For 3 days, we motor up the loneliest coastline in Australia, constantly concerned by the threat of an early cyclone. But I'm determined to see Wy and I still want to land that big baramundi before returning home.
At last we reach Ma at the top of Walcott Inlet, 80 km from the sea and still under tidal influence.
So after months in the Kimbley, I've caught up with my old mate Watty Nerdu at last.
What is known and respected throughout the Kimbley for the exceptional man he is. We celebrate our arrival with a feed of witchy grubs, although they're more of an entree than a meal.
These witchy grubs live in the base of a certain eucalyptus tree. Their presence detected by a small mound of wood dust on the ground beneath a very small hole in the tree.
Witchy grubs can either be cooked or eaten raw. The body is sweet with an almost almondike flavor, but don't ever eat the head.
What he and his men are now running this vast property without any outside supervision.
At the present time they're mustering wild cattle branding and fencing.
The horses and breeding bulls were purchased with a government grant and brought in by barge along the coast the same way that we've come. The aboriges are all expert stockmen and for the first time in many years they're back in their tribal lands. Ironically, this range now called Pantagen was originally a government feeding station set up to pacify the fierce Kimberly tribes. It was abandoned in the ' 40s and the Aborigines left the area for good. Watti has returned to resettle the land permanently.
The stock is in poor condition at the end of the dry season, but this is normal for Kimbley cattle. They'll fatten quickly once the rains bring out the lush natural pastures. Calves are earmarked, branded, and the bull calves castrated.
This self-determination project is a dramatic contrast to the hunting and collecting lifestyle experienced by these aboriges in their younger days.
Even their basic diet has changed. These days, a bulock is slaughtered and the meat salted. This old pincher's job is to keep plenty of smoke billowing to keep the blowflies away from the drying beef.
And traditionally in the bush you always have damper with salted beef. What he demonstrates the real oldtimer's method.
Plain flour, water, and baking powder cooked in the fiercely hot coals. It's an art acquired only with long experience.
Dust it off with a tea towel and it's ready to slice.
Throughout the trip, we obtain museum specimens and at times record information about certain animals in the least known areas. Kim has returned with a spotted native cat. Because of its nocturnal habits, this small carnivorous mammal is rarely ever seen.
It hates the sunlight and with a flash dives for the cool sanctuary of the rocks.
In this remote area, there are still many little known rivers and gorges. We leave what camp for a few days and journey by boat to the river gorge. It's now over 30 years since the aborigines left this place and today even the wildlife has lost its fear of men.
This Merton's water monitor is a typical example. It climbs from the water to stare inquisitively at me.
Amazed at its daring, I feed it scraps of meat.
These goanas are very timid. But because this is still a complete wilderness, I'm able to approach and photograph this reptile without it showing any sign of being unduly perturbed.
One of Australia's great fighting fish is the baramundi. And now I finally reached a spot where I can actually see the bear swimming in clear fresh water.
Just see how they jump. And this one is being dragged in on a heavy hand line too.
Baramundi is recognized as the best eating fish in the north.
Kim has never fished with a spinner before, but within minutes of his first cast, he's hooked a fighter.
What a fish for beginners luck.
Keen to get amongst the action, I drag out my light telescopic rod. The spinner hits the water and I've hooked something big.
And look at it go. This is why the Baramundi is so highly esteemed as a game fish on light tackle.
Let's look at that amazing jump again.
I've known fishermen who have tried unsuccessfully for years to land a baramundi like this one.
They have a remarkable ability to throw themselves clear of the water. This site is the ultimate thrill for a fisherman.
When the mighty fighter gives in, even I'm surprised by its size. It weighs 13 kilos or 28 12 lb and I landed it on a 16lb braking strain line.
But we must return south. The neep tides have started and it's time to get our boat well out of the inlet or we'll be stranded here for over a week. With the cyclonic season due to start, this could become a dangerous situation.
It's goodbye to Watty and we slide the boat into the water.
I know that when I return to this wild country again, Watie will be an old man and the tribal ways will be gone forever.
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