Written for A Melbourne Unversity.
Irbmankara or Running Waters as it was later known to white man, is a four-mile stretch situated on the Finke River, about halfway between Hermannsburg and Henbury. A place of natural beauty, it was named after it’s fish-filled pools, pools connected by streams that run down a hill, joining onto the Finke River.2
Home to the Aranda people, Irbmankara was an important Aranda ceremonial centre. Ceremonies were held in a sacred cave, on top of the hill, about a mile from the upper pool. Only during ceremonial occasions that initiated men were welcome to the sacred territory, and in such times they were not permitted to bring any weapons. ‘Local myths say at the beginning of time Irbmankara was home to duck ancestors, these were immortal beings that could take the shift of either ducks or humans.’1 These totemic centres dispersed and settled in the surrounding areas of Western and Upper Southern Aranda. While the myths of Irbamnakara belonged to the local tribes, many of the neighbouring folk in Matuntara, Northern, Central and Upper Aranda territories often visited to attend the sacred ceremonies, as they were the human guardians of totemic centres who had also passed through Irbamngkara, before settling their respective areas.
‘Irbmangkara ‘a place of peace and undisturbed serene beauty is also remembered for its full share of man's cruelty and viciousness’.1 In 1875 before the first white settlement along the Finke River, it was the scene of a massacre, known as the Massacre of Running Waters. After a visit to Irbmankara, a Central Aranda man, Kalejika reported back that some men from the Upper Southern Aranda group had committed sacrilege. Ltjabakuka, the highly respected ceremonial chief, along with his assistant elders, had given uninitiated boys, men’s blood, blood from the veins of their elders, which was drunk from a shield. According to an old Aranda custom, this was a sacred coming of age ritual, ‘to offer any of this blood to uninitiated boys would have been a particularly detestable form of sacrilege.’1 An offence punishable by death.
Although it is inconceivable that an esteemed elder such as Ltjabakuka, would abuse sacred Aranda rights, Kalejika was an also esteemed elder in his region, and therefore, a number of the Upper Southern Arnada men believed his story, or perhaps chose to. As the story spread amongst the surrounding tribes, as Kalejka began to gather allies.
It was not uncommon to see capital punishment, although, to inflict this upon a ceremonial chief and his elders, meant there were certain rules. It had to be enforced by men from totemic centres linked to those of the offenders. However, with these links often came kinship, and no man could be forced to kill his kin. Which was the case for many of the Upper Southern Aranda men, this was also the case for the Western Aranda groups, who dismissed the story as malicious lies. By the end of his campaigning Kalejika ended up with between fifty to sixty men, mostly Matuntara men, but there were a few Upper Southern Aranda men amongst them.1 Including an influential man named Kapaluru, who was responsible for the addition of several young warriors. After appointing Tjinawarti, a Matuntara man as their leader, the avenging warriors set off.
In 1875, late one afternoon, the warriors began their attack on the Irbmangkara people. Arriving at the site, they split into parties of three. 'The numbers were large enough to form a group of tnengka, meaning there were enough men to overwhelm a whole camp of victims by means of an open attack made in broad daylight.’1 As they surrounded the camp, they hid amongst the bushes, watching their victims, waiting for the right time to strike. They were only to attack once every member was present, as not to leave any witnesses.
The people of Irbmagkara returned to Urualbukara, their camp at the southern pools, and began to cook their meals after a successful day of hunting and gathering. It was when the sun had sunk behind the mountains, allowing the shadows to camouflage the warriors, that they struck.2 ‘They rushed in, like swift dingoes upon a flock of unsuspecting emus, spears and boomerangs flew with deadly aim.’1 After a matter of minutes, when the chief Ltjabakuka and his men were lying lifeless, to ensure that the future of the tribe was eliminated, the warriors turned on the woman and children. They began to spear and club them to death, followed by breaking the bones of any infants, leaving them to die a natural death.2
Before beginning the journey home, to make sure they had left no witnesses, the attackers prodded the eighty to one hundred men, women and children. Unbeknown to the warriors, despite being severely injured, one of Ltjabakuka's wives, Laparintja had survived. Convincing the warriors she was dead, she lay limp, her body shielding her baby son, Kaltjibuka. When the coast was clear, Laparintja, ran into the safety of the bushes, before making her way to Arbanta, another Irbmagkara camp.
On the trail home, the warriors ran into an unwanted surprise, two Irbmangkara men returning late from the hunt, came across their path. The warriors, fearful that the men would see what they had done, reacted quickly, throwing spears at the two men. One of the men, Ilbalta who was handicapped was quickly brought down, the other man Nameia, despite the spear to his leg, put up a fight, picking up the spears and throwing them back at his attackers. It was when the attackers noticed the cloud of smoke in the distance, from another camp, that they retreated, allowing Nameia to get away. A sense of fear spread amongst the tnenga, Nameia was sure to recognise their faces as they at one point had been a visitor of Irbmangkara. Not to mention, Nameia’s parents had both been Matuntara people, with his father Kuruila, an important ceremonial chief. ‘Many of the warriors who had raided Irbmangkara had hence been his close relatives.’1
Overwhelmed with grief, Nameia, like Laparintja, made his way up the Finke valley to Arbanta. His Western Aranda wife and his two younger sons had fallen victim to the slaughter. ‘Soon the gorge walls above Irbmangkara were echoing with the wails of men, women and children, who were mourning their dead kinsfolk.’1
‘The survivors began to organise a revenge party, organising who was to be sent out as leltja and kill the men responsible for the massacre.’ 1 The message spread through Central, Northern and Western Aranda territory, gathering those who showed support for the punishment of the Irbmangkara raiders. A small party of ten, chosen for their prowess with weapons and skills in bushcraft, assembled near Manta on the Finke River, a few miles upstream from Irmbmagkara. ‘Before they embarked on their mission they were put through a special ritual, believed to endow avengers with the ability to creep upon their unsuspecting victims in safety and to evade without difficulty the spears of their enemies.’1
Led by Nameia, the party included two of Ltjabakuka's sons, as well as several of his close relatives. Unlike the mission of the tnengka warriors who killed in mass, the leltja avengers could take years as they moved through hostile territory, picking off the warriors, one by one. ‘With their own lives continually at stake, these leltja avengers killed and waited between kills with the determination and the patience of highly intelligent beasts of prey.’1 While they tried to only kill the men involved, sometimes there were additional casualties, as to avoid any eyewitnesses. ‘While there were some lrbmangkara raiders who escaped retribution,’ the leltja had managed to pick off the guilty Southern Aranda and Matuntara warriors, including leader Tjinawariti and the respected Kapaluru.1 ‘As they made their proud return, gaunt and exhausted, but, without a single casualty, they were greeted by their overjoyed kinsmen.’1
The world they had left behind over three years earlier had dramatically changed.1 It was 1879 and their land had been invaded by white settlement and with white men’s arrival, it brought a new era of violence. This ended the chances of retaliation, which relieved those affected by the Irbmangkara massacre, who longed for peace after years of murder and violence. The Matuntara men were not so satisfied, as they had lost two of their leading figures in Tjinawariti and Kapaluru. They decided that at least one Irbmangkara man would be killed in retribution, who naturally was Namiea. As the leader of the avenging party, Namiea was crucial in identifying the original band of raiding warriors.1 On top of this, he was a Matunatua man, the success of their mission had been down to his intimate knowledge of the area.
Despite agreeing that Nameia was to be executed, to avoid a counter-attack, they would wait twelve years before he met his fate. A new police station, known as the Boggy Waterhole police camp, had recently opened at Alitera, near the Matunata border. The officer in charge was Constable W.H. Willshire, who had a reputation in aboriginal central Australia as being a murderous man. Known for shooting tribesmen, in areas where there are stories of cattle-killing by the cattlemen.
Nameia's eldest son, who had been safely at Arbanta during the massacre, had been chosen as a native constable by Willshire.1 It was one day when Nameia decided to go visit his son, that his patient executioners finally got their revenge. Despite his close proximity to the police camp, they decided to move quickly. As the sun went down, several Matuntara men set up camp, where they could keep an eye on the Alitera camp. They had to be patient, it was Nameia only, that could be killed.
As the night rolled on, their patience was rewarded, Nameia sat up, adding some kindling onto the fire beside him. The light from the fire revealing his face and body, it was time to strike. His enemies threw their spears through the air, striking and killing Nameia. The attackers quickly rose, fleeing through the darkness of night, arriving safely in Matuntara area the next morning. While the death of Nameia caused a commotion, waking the white police officer, it was the dead of the night, there was nothing he could do. Besides to him, it was just a killing of a ‘rascally old nigger’.1 Willshire's attitude changed once he found out that Nameia was the father of his native constable Aremala, and that it had been a Matuntara raid on a Southern Aranda camp.1
‘Despite perhaps his feeling of being undermined by a tribal execution,’1 the new police camp that Willshire had set up, had not been welcomed by the neighbouring Lutheran missionaries at Hermannsburg. With a number of reports sent to Adelaide with concerns about the conduct of at least two of the troopers towards the aborigines, one being Willshire himself. This had resulted in an official enquiry and two South Australian commissioners coming down to investigate. In July 1890, the report was submitted to the South Australian parliament, finding "no foundation for any charge of his being guilty of shooting down the blacks". ‘The pioneer white settlers had risen solidly to the defence of the police.’1
The manager of Tempe Downs Station, Richard J. Thornton had been making allegations that the local Aborigines had been spearing his cattle. As the enquiry had given Willshire the all-clear, he saw the execution of Nameia as an excellent excuse to punish some cattle killers. Although, this time, he would arm his four native constables with rifles, ordering them to carry out the execution. To Willshire's surprise, none of his constables were enthusiastic about his plan. Their tribal feud had rules, to kill by spear and boomerang was one thing, but for black men to use firearms to carry out the orders of a white policeman against their own race. ‘It was an act of treachery against the dark race, designed to advance mainly the cause of the white usurpers of the aboriginal lands... Despite their hesitation, they had no choice, they feared their white master more than their black enemies.’ 1
In the hours of dawn on the 22nd of February 1891, the four native police swept down on the camp close to Tempe Downs Station. The first man was shot while lying by his fire asleep, this woke his mate who fled, narrowly escaping. The second victim was also woken by the sound of bullets, he also got up and fled, but wasn't so lucky and was brought down. ‘The wails of the dark women who had been disturbed by the shooting now burst upon the grim scene.’1 Once the shootings were finished Willshire and his native constables went back to the station. The dead bodies of the Matuntara men, to be taken a burnt in two separate locations. It was here, a fatal mistake was made, remnants of charred bones were left, unburnt in the ashes.
Although the visit from the commissioners six months earlier and been in Willshire’s favour, there were still a few white men who believed the police brutality had gone long enough. ‘Mr Frank J. Gillen, a justice of peace of the Alice Springs Telegraph Station, personally went down to the Boggy Waterhole camp, accompanied by a newly arrived police officer, Mounted Constable William G. South.’1 Taking the native constables to Tempe Downs for an investigation. The fearless enquiry resulted in Willshire spending seventeen days in Port Augusta gaol awaiting a charge of murder.
After the arrest of Willshire, the local cattle stations feared for their future. With the local community raising his £2000 bail, plus enough to hire a leading lawyer, former Premier of South Australia, Sir John Downer. Resulting in his acquittal, despite this, Willshire’s superiors did not allow him to return to his old job. This not only signified the end to this chapter of police violence in Central Australia but it concluded the tribal war that had started in Irbmakara sixteen years earlier.
References
Strehlow, T. and Jones, P., 2015. Journey To Horseshoe Bend.
Geoffrey Blainey
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