Sunday, February 1


Each day now Kengaroo travels, each day tired, needs rest. He meet Iguana, she tells him "go to Morning Camp, camping good there". So he go. At at Morning Camp, two Ravens, loud, scream at him, "Kenga, go away, this camp not good, you do not belong here". Kenga stays, thinks "this is ok, the world loves me, I belong here", but he wonders. Out walking he comes by family of Man, faces dark as night, proud wide nose. They don't look at him, they don't speak, Kenga thinks, "ok, they welcome me, I belong here", but he wonders.
Night falls and all creatures say goodnight. Make loud shriek and roar and cry. Kenga is little scared, but he knows he belongs. He finds sleep in the black hot night.
Dark midnight, everything still, everything is peace. But no! From out of the dark comes mad screaming demon, eyes like fire. It wakes Kenga, circles his camp, throws sand at him. Up ahead it stops, shining bright angry eyes at Kenga. His animal heart know this is bad. Less than one hundred heartbeats, he gathers his medicine, makes ready to flee. From the dark forest he hears eery singing "if you love me get down on your knees, if you no love me, then you better leave!"
Kenga breaks from the bush at a mad run. His animal mind remembers the maze of tracks he must take to get out. He recalls a camp not too far, maybe he can find others, be safe.
He finds other camp ok, but it is late. Noone there, everybody sleeping. Kenga hunkers down in the moonlight, hopes for morning to come. But no! crazy lights coming, seeking for him. He hides lower to the ground, remembers "the world loves me". Before long a knock comes, he turns to find Man But White, saying, "ok mate, camp here, out back, no worries, morning come, you go your way". Kenga thinks "ok i can do this", but still he wonders. The rain begins to fall, Kenga sits and wonders, "who rode this demon horse". Was it Man, or Man But White, or maybe some new devil beast risen from the billabong? He slips into quiet sleep.

I start awake from a fitful slumber, completely drenched in a foul sweat. My neck is kinked from cramming myself into the back seat of this rent a car. The rain is beating down hard, a tribal tattoo on the metal roof, the floodwater rising against the tires. Four o'clock, just a couple more hours and daylight comes, I can go back, collect my abandoned tent, and continue my journey.

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