The group members wore Fly nets and Snake boots, carried heavy brightly coloured sacks on their backs, and various pouches fixed tightly around their waists containing ‘valuables.’ They walked slowly as one, like a huge civilised reptile of some kind. Behind them were two creeping land cruisers, silver Geese, transporting all their supplies. For my part I, like ninija and her People, have discarded the baggage I do not need. Need is so often an illusion. ‘Right Here’ and ‘Right Now’ I am certain that all I need can be found in the Vast Hot Desert. I am completely sure that the Lands will provide everything.
Today, from my strange position between worlds, I will never ever forget their departure. It has for me the quality of a fantasy, the first-hand experiencing of a fable or myth. There was no need for ‘goodbyes,’ only the silence of real trust. Looking around inside this dark clammy dog-box, I remember so clearly when I first arrived at the settlement some years ‘back then.’ I would religiously sit down to write painstaking observations of ninija and her People.
Once tightly shut inside, I would light various deterrents warding off the swarming Flies, and then nervously remove my net from my face and my sweat-sodden bush hat. But soon I began to run out of deterrents, and in desperation I called for extra supplies on my transmitter. Then the Wet season came and flooded out my dog-box, ruining my transmitter. No supplies were delivered. I was suddenly on my own, news-less, unsupported by my culture, stricken by a deep-seated panic that what had been my world was land-sliding away and leaving me behind.
I became fearful of dying a Desert death. But most of all, I was absolutely petrified of intolerable pain. Despite my studies, I was convinced that it would not be assisted by the ‘magic and other non-chemical means’ available to my subjects, once my own ‘chemical’ medical supplies were completely exhausted. It was when I was utterly consumed with my mortality, not any longer daring to step outside, that I began to speak in my dreams.
At first my scurvy lips seemed to be talking to myself using strange unconnected strands of language. I became quickly persuaded that I was in the early stages of malarial madness. But then I realized that there was someone else involved. I searched wildly in my four clammy corners of my shack for my interlocutor. To my amazement, ninija was giving me words like supplies of glucose to sustain my frail life, but she was nowhere to be found.
After that scary time when I feared for my mental health, and as I gradually accepted her as an invisible guide, ninija was with me most of the time. My Sleep-dreams and Day-dreams were woven into a gigantic carpet. She invited me continually to believe in ‘abundance,’ a word I had little recollection of ever using before. This word broke my conditioned addiction to the idea of ‘scarcity,’ to fending off hardship, to over-protecting myself until I became a dried Twig. Instead, this new notion of ‘abundance’ gave me a bright outlook of plenty.
Wisdom Tip: The caretaker moved between the world of the desert and all its wisdom, and the world of human centred life. When people become detached from nature and a natural way of living, they start to go their own way instead of listening to the wisdom of the invisible world or the mystical. He gradually connected with Ninija until she was inside his unconscious mind, guiding him, taking away all his human fears. Gradually through her influence he realised that the environment provided everything everyone needed to survive as long as they respected and cared for it. This changed his way of thinking entirely and he began to be bright and positive, just like the Universe itself.