Emily Gap, east of Alice Springs, an ancient ceremonial site of the Aranda Aborigines.
THE CAMEL WAGONS
L. BLOCH
They stand on the flood plains proud and strong, abandoned, left to decay.
Camels released to roam in the wild, the drivers long gone, far away.
From the east they came, with their camels and turbans and trinkets to work,
in the harsh desert country, the tough rugged land, in the sun and the
floods and the flies.
Beneath the wagon on a wire bed, which hung from the beams above,
the driver would sleep in the cool of the night on his dusty woven rug.
He would dream of a beautiful dark-eyed girl waiting for his return,
with stories to tell, a purse full of gold and a promised wedding ring.
At dawn he would wake to the sound of the crow, the sun in his eyes, and the
flies.
On his rug, facing east to Allah he’d call, in a long and mournful prayer.
Then fill up his cup from the canvas bag which hung on the side of his bed,
and eat the remains of cold rabbit stew, and a piece of mouldy bread.
On the dusty plain the wagons stand, their wheels embedded in desert sand.
The water’s gone from the canvas bags, and the beds have rusted and the wire sags.
Gone is the crack of the driver’s whip, the call to the camels to pull on
the load.
But in the early morn with the dew on the grass, I hear the sounds of a forgotten past.
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