A Kellerberrin Horse

A Kellerberrin Horse 2nd Feb 2009
In my last blog I mentioned a tree, a giant, ancient, grey barked, blue leafed, buttress rooted being, that held sway in my temporary past part of this world.
I did mention horses, but I gave no names.
One was a trotting horse that was a foal trained in these here parts.
Its name was Chico and in the late 1930s, it became the property of my grandfather's brothers.
It was a horse that could not be beaten and such was the West Australian angst of certain, nameless mobsters, my grandfather's brothers had the horse moved interstate.
Now mentioning this horse, I have done so because of the Noongar tales that were once told about the maned legends of the hoof...
Old Noongar called them ngort.
Imagine that, the old horse was a ngort!
And the Noongar word for the fly was a nort, now ain't the two of them similar...??!
But then so too is the Noongar word for stink - nurrt!
Perhaps the horse, so beloved by the Noongar were noted for their smell - and not just to the Noongar, but to the fly who followed the ngort wherever he travelled. Cliff told the yarn about a Noongar who caught a horse called Nellie.
I cannot tell you this whole yarn, but it was a special one of the old man and related to a story and series of songs that happened near Kellerberrin.
Anyway, I guess what I can tell you is that the Noongar rider atop the horse becomes an eagle...
And Cliff's words... vivid in their description, laden with imagery, onomatopoeia and rhythm, Noongar words of the mai - the talk - almost word for word feature in someone else's tale, about one who becomes a hawk when riding a horse!
That 'someone else's tale' was none other than William Shakespeare.
As I said, I cannot tell the whole yarn here.
If I did, other's would surely grab it, and thrust it into the mouths of some other - as some have already done... and share nothing in common with the horse or the fly but only the stink - the nurrt - left behind...
So watch this space, and all will be revealed.
Old man Humphries had a gift, and his story and singing of the horse was one gift of the many he wanted his people to know... and they will, but better it is referenced coming from his mouth than from an imagined other...
Beneath this tree, giant arboreal being there were horses tethered and hobbled... Beneath such a tree was such imagery born...