Episode 123 Blow Thou Winter Wind

Episode 123 Show Notes

Source: Indigenous Australian Folklore

This week on MYTH, we’re heading to Australia for a story of the forces of nature. You’ll learn that logs can be deadly, that you shouldn’t let strangers take you fishing, and that the winds have a romantic side. Then, in Gods and Monsters, what happens when a star is kidnapped? This is the Myths Your Teacher Hated podcast, where I tell the stories of cultures from around the world in all of their original, bloody, uncensored glory. Modern tellings of these stories have become dry and dusty, but I’ll be trying to breathe new life into them. This is Episode 123, “Blow Thou Winter Wind”. As always, this episode is not safe for work.
We’re headed down under for a wintery tale of the Indigenous Australian people (specifically the Noongahburra people). Yeah, I know it’s not actually winter there right now but the weather where I am is decidedly chilly, so I want to tell a winter’s tale. Deal with it. This story comes to us once again from Australian Legendary Tales: Folklore of the Noongahburrahs as Told to the Piccaninnies, collected by K. Langloh Parker (who was actually Catherine Eliza Somerville Field writing under her husband’s name because of the rampant sexism of the time) in 1896.
Durroon the night heron lived near a creek that happened to hold a truly immense log. It was a terrific piece of real estate which Durroon used both to fish and to hunt men. That’s right – this heron is a literal man-eater, also known as a bunna (AKA a cannibal, because the night heron thing is more of a poetic title – he’s very much human). The log was hollow and sat low in the water, which made it a perfect place for hunting both kinds of game. Durroon improved it by cutting an opening in the middle, which we’ll shortly see the use of.
At irregular intervals, Daen men (an indigenous tribe) would happen by Durroon’s camp and strike up a friendly conversation. The cannibal would invite his newfound ‘friend’ to go fishing with him. “I need to find me a mullayerh,” which means a temporary mate or friend “cause I’m like a gundooee,” which means a single lonely emu. “I need somebody’s help to go to one end of this log I have set up and scare the fish to the other end where I can catch them.” The Daen man would quickly see the sense in this proposed plan. The two of them together would have a lot more luck fishing than either would alone, so both would come home with more dinner. He would agree and off they would go together.
The hapless Daen man would position himself at the far end of the log with nothing but a winning personality while Durroon went to the near side armed with a spear. He would wait for the Daen man to swim up into the huge hollow log driving the fish before him, then he would sneak out onto the log and crawl to the opening cut in the center. Having no reason to suspect gruesome treachery, the poor victim would swim up past the opening and Durroon would drive his spear through the man’s heart, killing him instantly. He’d then drag the corpse out of the hole, butcher it, and cook it for dinner. Like I said – cannibal.
Over time, many poor souls were lost to the predation of Durroon the night heron; all simply disappeared mysteriously and were never seen again. It became far too suspicious to ignore and finally a wirreenun (or rainmaker) named Wahn the crow decided to solve this bloody mystery once and for all. He was known as Wahn the crow because he was as clever and careful as that cunning corvid. He headed into the region where all of the missing men had last been seen and soon ran across Durroon’s camp. It was just about dinner time, so the cannibal offered his victim-to-be some nice fat goodoo, or cod, that he’d just finished cooking to share.
Wahn gratefully accepted the gift and the two sat and chatted, striking up a friendship (as was the serial killer cannibal’s MO). Once he felt confident that they had a rapport, he asked his new friend Wahn to go fishing with him. “Oh, fishing sounds lovely my new friend, but I fear I ate far too much goodoo. It was delicious but very fatty and now I’m very sleepy. I think I need a nice long snooze before I can even think about something as strenuous as fishing. How about tomorrow?”
Durroon had also just eaten, so he saw no reason he couldn’t wait one night for some fresh man flesh. “No worries, mate. Plenty of time for that in the morning. Sleep tight, friend.” He went to sleep secure in the knowledge that he would have a red feast ready for him the next day. Wahn, on the other hand, had a sneaking suspicion that something was up. He hadn’t seen anything especially dangerous out here, but those men had simply vanished, so there had to be something. Fortunately, Wahn had an ace up his sleeve – his Mullee Mullee, or dream spirit, that he could send questing through the world in search of what trap was waiting to ensnare him.
The Mullee Mullee went and checked out the creek that Durroon was so insistent on fishing in. Sure enough, it found the log with the hidden murder hole in it and reported back to Wahn on its findings in his dream. Thus when he awoke, he knew all about Durroon’s sneaky plot and had time to figure out a counterploy. Durroon was up not long after and anxious to go fishing. For fish. Definitely not murder.
As he had many times before, Durroon showed his victim the underwater opening of the hollow log and laid out his spearfishing plan. Being a great wirreenun, Wahn wasn’t worried about the threat posed by a mere cannibal. He’d handled worse in his time. I bet Wahn has tussled with a bunch of dropbears in his time. He swam into the bottom of the log and moved up, driving the fish before him as agreed. Durroon snuck out onto the log and waited by the opening for his prey to come into view.
As Wahn appeared, Durroon lashed out with his spear quick as thought, stabbing the rainmaker in the chest. The swimming man cried out ‘wah! Wah! Wah!’ but was otherwise unbothered by what should have been a lethal strike. He swam the rest of the way through the log as though nothing had happened. You know, except for the fucking spear stuck in his ribs. Pretending to be innocently confused, Wahn crawled out of the water looking at the spear protruding from him. “What happened out there, bud? You managed to miss all the fish and poke me instead. Hell of a mistake.” Durroon shrugged sheepishly. “Sorry about that, mate. Didn’t mean to hit you, I just thought you were a really big goodoo.”
Wahn pulled the spear out of his flesh and leaned on it like it was a walking stick. “Fair enough but I think I’m done fishing for today. Wouldn’t want you to make that mistake again – might not survive the next one.” He laughed, Durroon laughed, everyone had a good time. Inwardly, the cannibal relaxed. He thought he’d been caught, but that gullible Wahn really did believe it was all an innocent accident. He trotted over to his victim, already planning another way to kill him and gut him like a fish.
Wahn struck. Durroon was shocked to find the spear he’d stabbed Wahn with suddenly jutting out of his own heart. He opened his mouth to say something, but only a gout of blood came out. Pawing weakly at his bleeding wound, Durroon collapsed to the earth. He died there without really understanding what had happened to him. That sounds like the end to a story right? Well, not quite.
See around this time in an unrelated incident, Gheeger Gheeger the cold west wind had been devastating the land. This wasn’t just any wind, but a cruel and dangerous wind that blew up hurricanes that toppled massive trees, ruined crows nests, and made everyone’s lives miserable.Wahn realized he had a chance to end two menaces for the price of one here. “He was a dick, but that hollow log trick of his might be just the thing to trap Gheeger Gheeger. Of course, I need to dry the water out of it first.” I mean, I don’t see any reason that the log needs to be dry to catch an anthropomorphic wind but then, I’m no wirreenun.
Wahn got to work pulling the log out, drying it off, and blocking up the open ends. Then he cut a lid for the opening in the middle that he could close up quickly. It took a few days but it was soon perfect. He followed the signs of devastation until he found Gheeger Gheeger, who had been blowing fiercely for days now. The cold west wind was lazing about having already knocked down trees for miles and miles, freezing the tribes along her path with her icy winds. She was tired now. Easy prey.
Wahn laid the log out ahead of her and then waited in hiding until she passed by. As she did, he leapt out and shoved the surprised wind into the hollow log. Exhausted as she was, the wind wasn’t able to fight back effectively and found herself inside. As soon as she was, Wahn slammed the cover shut, trapping her. Gheeger Gheeger was furious and howled her anger but, trapped inside the log, she was impotent and harmless. “Roar all you want, it won’t make a difference. Your days of wanton destruction are over. From now on, you’re stuck with itty bitty living space. Get used to it.”
From inside the log, the cold west wind considered these words. “I beg your forgiveness, oh wise wirreenun. I swear that I will be gentle in the future if you just let me out of this trap sometimes.” Understandably, Wahn didn’t trust a word of this bitter storm and kept her trapped securely in the log. After many months of her pitiful pleading, he reconsidered. “Fine, you can come out of the log but no more hurricanes, okay?” She agreed and went out to stretch her clouds. She kept her word…for a while. As she got used to freedom again, she felt secure in her power and stirred up a new deadly storm. True to his threat, Wahn hunted her down and trapped her in the hollow log again. This pattern has continued over time and, each time Gheeger Gheeger forgets her promise and stirs up a storm, Wahn hunts her down and puts her away.
The giant hollow log made a pretty fantastic prison for the west wind initially but, as logs are wont to do, it slowly began to rot. Over time, holes grew in the log that allowed the chilly breath of Gheeger Gheeger to blow through and ravage the world with her storms. These modern tempests are much, much smaller in scale than the storms of the Dreamtime but, unless Wahn finds a new prison that can contain her soon, she will one day break free and blast the world with hurricanes of literally legendary proportions. As climate change keeps getting worse, it seems more and more likely that this day will come soon.
When Gheeger Gheeger finally breaks free, she will blast the world to ruin as she rushes headlong towards her lover Yarrageh, the spring east wind that blows from Kumbooran. In the old days, he would meet her as she raged out of Dinjerrah to the west. Only he could temper her icy wrath with his own balmy warmth and ease the brutal cold of her winter storms. They are not the only windy couple however: Blistering Dourandowran would often scorch down from Gurburreh in the north to meet his beloved Gunyahmoo from Bullimedeehmundi in the southeast (not the south, which seems odd to me). She alone can fan his heat and cool his temper with her softer, cooler breezes so that he scorches those in his path no longer. At least for a time. The southern wind, Nooroonooroobin would soar out of Nurroobooan to meet Mundehwuddah, the northwest wind. No word on the status of the relationship between the northeast and the southwest winds who are not named in this story. Maybe they don’t mingle with the other winds. Anywho.
Every so often, all of the winds would come together for great corroborees (a traditional ceremony in Indigenous Australia that could take the form of a sacred dance ritual or a more informal gathering), resulting in much wild, windy revelry. After each of these great, raucous festivals, the winds would return to their own domains already looking forward to the next gathering and the next time they could have a breathless affair with their respective beloveds. In the old days, they had these meetups every few months or so, which is why Gheeger Gheeger is so restless. Her wailing and gnashing of teeth is in part about how much she doesn’t like being trapped and prevented from storming but much more about how she cannot rush to Yarrageh and mingle her cold breath with his. The day is coming soon when she will break free and join him again, which will not end well for the rest of us. But for now, it’s time for Gods and Monsters. This is a segment where I get into a little more detail about the personalities and history of one of the gods or monsters from this week’s pantheon that was not discussed in the main story. This week’s celestial sisters are the Meamei.
We’ve actually met these ancient beauties before as the Pleiades of Greek mythology back in Episode 72V. Being a very prominent cluster of stars, it should come as no surprise that they show up in the stories of other cultures as well. This story comes to us from the same collection as the main tale. Long, long ago, the Meamei lived on the earth along with everything else. As you likely guessed, they were seven sisters of remarkable beauty and grace. Their long, luxurious hair hung down to their waists and their bodies sparkled in the light from the icicles that hung from them.
Their mother and father lived high on the distant, rocky mountains far away from the rest of the world. Unlike their precocious daughters, the parents never left the mountains to wander the world. Though the seven sisters were not part of any tribe, they met many of them as they hunted and often made friends amongst them. In particular, there was a family with seven boys that they especially liked to hang out with. These sons, the Berai-Berai thought the Meamei were the most beautiful women they had ever seen and wanted them to stay and marry the seven brothers (a theme we’ve seen before). They would follow the sisters around to camp near where they camped and often left offerings for them. Which comes off a little stalkerish, although maybe the rules are different for supernatural beings.
The Berai-Berai were especially skilled in finding beehives though their methods were somewhat unorthodox. See, first they would catch a single solitary bee. Then they would take a white feather or, even better, some white down (very fine feathers from young birds) and stick it to the bee’s back with gum. They were careful to place it so that the indignant bee could still fly perfectly fine so that, when they released it, they could follow the bobbing white feather back to its beehive. Whenever the Meamei were near, the brothers would take all of the honey they found, put it in wirrees (small canoe-shaped pieces of bark), and leave it as the aforementioned offerings. The sisters were happy to accept the delicious honey but not so much the wooing.
And now it’s time to meet Wurrunnah (a folk hero of the Gamilaroi people who lived in what is now New South Wales and Queensland), who’s about to become very important to the story but we have to rewind a bit first. He was a hunter as well but he’d had quite the string of bad luck. On this particular day of no luck, he came back home tired and hungry. He asked his old mother for something to eat, but she told him there was nothing left. He asked some others in the camp to share some doonburr seeds with him so that he could make durrie for himself but no one would give him even a single seed. Maybe because they didn’t have enough to share or maybe because they didn’t like Wurrunnah. Either way, he was enraged by what he saw as selfishness and a lack of respect. “Fuck this – I’m going to leave here and move to some new country and live with whatever strangers I meet. My own people starve me, so they can’t possibly be worse.”
Not giving himself any time to cool down from being hangry, he packed up and left right that very second. Taking up his weapons, he traveled a long time until he came across an old man harvesting honey from beehives. As Wurrunnah approached, the old man turned to face him and he saw something odd and deeply disturbing: the old man had no eyes but he was still very clearly watching him. Being a folk hero, he decided to confront this strange phenomenon head on and approached the eyeless old man despite his fear. It turned out that he was Mooroonumildah and he was very hospitable and kind despite his creepy appearance. He said he could tell that his new friend was hungry (he apparently saw with his nose somehow) and so offered him a wirree filled with delicious honey. He also told him where to find the old man’s camp (the same camp where the Berai-Berai brothers lived) and offered to let him stay.
Wurrunnah took the honey gratefully and headed in the direction that Mooroonumildah had indicated but, as soon as he was out of sight, turned a different direction. He didn’t know anything about these people, so it seemed wiser to him to stay somewhere else for the time being. He walked for a long time until, at last, he came to a large lagoon. Being hot and thirsty, Wurrunnah stopped by for a drink. The water was cool and refreshing, so he decided to camp there as well. The day was mostly over and he was tired, so Wurrunnah pitched his tent and went straight to sleep.
Only when he awoke in the morning, the lagoon was gone. There was no sign it had ever existed, only an empty plain where he was sure the water had been. “Am I still dreaming? A lagoon can’t simply disappear.” He rubbed his eyes and looked again, but the lagoon stayed gone. “Okay seriously what the fuck? This is a very strange country with eyeless men and vanishing lagoons.” As he was pondering the mystery of the disappearing water, he noticed that a nasty-looking storm was rolling in. Wurrunnah knew what was coming and hurried to find shelter before it arrived. He headed into the thick brush when he came across a bunch of bark piled up that had clearly been cut by a person.
“Well this is convenient. If I just get myself some poles, I can use this bark to make a dardurr to shelter from the storm in.” It didn’t take him long to find and cut the poles, then assemble them into a crude shelter. Just as he was preparing to place the bark, he stumbled across a strange object he’d never seen before. There’s no description of this amorphous object but we do have a name because it cried out ‘I am Bulgahnunnoo!’ in such a terrifying tone that Wurrunnah dropped it amongst the bark. Grabbing his weapons, he fled the terrifying thing without a care for the oncoming storm.
He ran until he came to a big river that curved so that he was hemmed in on three sides by it. It was far too deep and wild to cross, so he had no choice but to head back the way he’d come and try a different direction once he was clear of the river. As he did, he saw a large flock of emus coming to drink from the river. Strangely, half of the birds had no feathers (though the other half looked totally normal). Being hungry, he figured an emu would make a fine dinner. Taking up his spear, he snuck around to a hiding spot so that he could pick one off. His spear flew true and he climbed out of the tree he’d hunted from to fetch the carcass.
It was only as he got closer that he realized the featherless emus were no longer emus. They were men of a strange tribe gathered around their dead comrade. From their body language and angry tones, he could tell that they were furious about the murder and eager for vengeance. Oops. Wurrunnah doubted that they would care that it had been an accident, which meant his only choice was to run. Yet again he took to his heels, not even risking a look over his shoulders to see if they were coming after him. He didn’t see the camp until he’d already stumbled into it. Oh fuck.
Luckily, this turned out to be the first safe thing he’d encountered in this strange country. The seven sisters living in this camp were none other than the Meamei. Not only did they not look dangerous, they looked even more surprised by his sudden entrance than he was. When they found out he was alone, lost, and hungry, they took pity on him. They told him that their tribe was also very far away (as I mentioned earlier). They were on a little walkabout to see what this land had to offer before returning home for a while.
The next day, Warrunnah woke early determined to make a fresh start but he had a plan. He left the girls’ camp as though he had a destination in mind, but he doubled back as soon as he was out of sight. Like the seven brothers, he thought these lovely star women would make the perfect wives and decided to hunker down and watch for an opportunity to kidnap one. Hey, I never said he was a good guy. This isn’t the first time we’ve seen a mythic hero do morally questionable things and it won’t be the last.
He watched as the seven sisters each took up yam sticks, found a great colony of flying ants, and then dug them up. These ants were considered a great delicacy in these parts, so this was something of a sumptuous feast. While the sisters were distracted with eating, Wurrunnah snuck up and stole two of the yam sticks. The Meamei satisfied their appetites and got ready to move on but, of course, only five of them found their yam sticks. Sure they could make more but these were perfect tools and they figured the sticks had to be somewhere nearby. Two sisters stayed behind to search, promising to catch up to the other five shortly.
When their backs were turned to him, Wurrunnah crept out and stuck the missing yam sticks in the ground, then slipped back into hiding. The two girls saw their missing sticks and, not worrying about how they could have overlooked something so obvious, they rushed over to take them up. Only Wurrunnah had stuck them deep into the earth and the slim young women struggled to pull them back out. While they were distracted, he leapt out, snatched both of them by the waist, and held them fast. The terrified girls screamed and fought, but it was no use. They weren’t strong enough to break free and their sisters were already too far away to hear anything.
They soon tired out enough to quiet a little and Wurrunnah told them he didn’t intend to hurt them. At least, as long as they did as he said. If they disobeyed, he could still silence them with his moorillah (a type of club). Realizing that they didn’t have much choice, the girls agreed to go quietly. They warned Wurrunnah that their tribe would soon realize they were missing and send someone to rescue them. Hoping to elude all pursuit, he hurried them on. Weeks passed and the two Meamei seemed to settle into their new lives but, when they were alone, they still wondered if their sisters were looking for them and wept together for the loss of the lives they loved. They knew that it was possible that no one would ever find them and they’d be forced to live with their captor forever.
They were camped one day when Warrunnah came up to them. “This fire is burning like shit. You two should go over and get some bark from those two pine trees over there.” “That’s a bad idea – if we were to go cut that bark, you’d never see us again.” “Stop being willful, damn it. I told you to go cut pine bark. Can’t you see how slow and shitty this fire is burning?” “Seriously Wurrunnah, if we go, you’ll never see us in this country ever again.” “Shut up and listen. Go and do as I said and remember that if you try to run, I’ll catch you. I’m faster and stronger and you won’t enjoy being caught. In case that was too subtle, I’d beat the shit out of you. Now go.”
Shrugging, the two Meamei took up their knives and headed for the pine trees. Each went to a different tree, reared back, and drove their knife deep into the bark. As she did, each felt their tree rise up out of the ground and carry her away into the sky. Wurrunnah was disappointed but not overly surprised to hear no sounds of chopping. With an aggrieved sigh, he went to see what his prisoners were up to. He arrived just in time to see the trees towering up into the sky and carrying his captives with them. He yelled at them to get their asses back to earth, but they made no response.
High above, the other five Meamei looked down from their home in the sky and saw their sisters approaching. As the trees grew tall enough to scrape the sky, they reached out their hands and pulled the other two up into the sky where they would live forever thereafter. To this day, you can see the seven sisters up in the sky where they live still, safe from Wurrunnah though the two who were captured burn less bright since their icicles were melted and dulled some from tending the fires of Wurrunnah.
So what about the Berai-Berai? They eventually discovered that their beloved Meamei had left the earth behind forever and were utterly inconsolable. They went back home and, being handsome and eligible young men, other women were suggested as potential wives but the brothers weren’t interested. They refused to be comforted, refused to even eat – they wasted away until they died from their pining for the missing sisters. The spirits took pity on the brothers for their genuine affection and dedication and honored them with their own place in the sky. The Berai-Berai, or the boys, are the stars that you may know as Orion and his belt.
It is said that they still hunt bees by day and at night dance the corroborees with the Meamei singing along. The two camp separately but not too far away as they used to do on earth. They’re certainly close enough for the boy to hear the angelic singing of the girls. During the winter, the Meamei will sometimes break off some of their ice and throw it down to earth as a sign that they have not forgotten the earth they once called home. Those who tell this story use this ice to numb their noses to pierce them so that they can sing with the skill and beauty of the Meamei.
And what about Wurrunnah? One of the Meamei’s relations saw him running around below utterly impotent and unable to stop his captive would-be wives from escaping. This relation thought it was so funny and he was so glad that the girls had escaped that he burst out laughing and has in fact been laughing ever since. He is known as Daendee Ghindamaylannah, the laughing star, which you might know as Venus. Whenever thunder is heard in the winter, people will say ‘the Meamei are bathing. They are jumping around and doing cannonballs into the missing lagoon – whoever makes the biggest splash wins’ which is a favorite game the world over. They know that the rain will soon fall, splashed out of the lagoon by the laughing, playing sisters.
That’s it for this episode of Myths Your Teacher Hated. Keep up with new episodes on our Facebook page, on iTunes, on TuneIn, on Vurbl, and on Spotify, or you can follow us on Twitter as @HardcoreMyth, on Instagram as Myths Your Teacher Hated Pod, and on Tumblr as MythsYourTeacherHated. You can also find news and episodes on our website at myths your teacher hated dot com. If you have any questions, any gods or monsters you’d want to learn about, or any ideas for future stories that you’d like to hear, feel free to drop me a line. I’m trying to pull as much material from as many different cultures as possible, but there are all sorts of stories I’ve never heard, so suggestions are appreciated. The theme music is by Tiny Cheese Puff.
Next time, we’re heading out to a smaller island in the larger Turtle Island – specifically, Long Island, New York. You’ll find out what happens when you’re not careful around sculpture, what animals have the best body parts, and what you can find beneath the island’s sand. Then, in Gods and Monsters, the sun will help the first couple with their first fight. That’s all for now. Thanks for listening.