The Legend of the Muldjewangk

Introduction:

In the quiet, mist-shrouded waters of the Murray River in South Australia, an ancient legend whispers through the reeds. This is the tale of the Muldjewangk, a terrifying and mystical water creature, feared by the indigenous Ngarrindjeri people for generations. The Muldjewangk was said to lurk beneath the still surface, waiting for the unwary to wander too close to its domain. This story captures the essence of their cautionary lore, the echo of which still haunts the riverbanks today.

The Whispering Waters

Many centuries ago, long before European settlers arrived in Australia, the Ngarrindjeri people lived in harmony with the land and waters surrounding the Murray River. The river was their lifeblood, providing fish, water, and a means of travel. They knew every bend, every ripple, and every secret hidden within its depths. And at the heart of this knowledge was a tale passed down from elder to youth—the legend of the Muldjewangk.

According to the elders, the Muldjewangk was as old as the river itself, a creature born from the spirit of the waters. It was said to be enormous, with the strength of ten men and the ferocity of a wild beast. Covered in scales, its body shimmered like the moon's reflection on the water. Its eyes glowed red, like embers burning in the night, and its voice was a deep, rumbling growl that could be heard whenever the wind passed over the river.

Young men of the Ngarrindjeri tribe would gather around their campfires, listening with wide eyes as the elders warned them never to stray too far into the water or venture out alone after dusk. The Muldjewangk, they said, despised those who disrespected its domain and would drag the unwary into the depths, never to be seen again.

The Fisherman's Challenge

Among the Ngarrindjeri was a young fisherman named Jandamarra, who was as skilled as he was bold. He knew every curve and current of the Murray River, and his catch was always the largest. Despite the warnings, Jandamarra's confidence often bordered on arrogance, and he began to dismiss the tales of the Muldjewangk as mere superstition. He laughed at his elders’ cautionary tales, declaring that no creature of the river could frighten him.

One day, Jandamarra ventured further down the river than he had ever gone before, determined to prove that there was no danger lurking beneath the waters. As he cast his net, he noticed a strange ripple disturbing the surface. The water seemed to move with a mind of its own, as though something immense and ancient was stirring beneath it. But Jandamarra paid it no heed, convinced it was nothing more than a large fish.

As the day wore on and the sun dipped below the horizon, Jandamarra began to haul in his catch. Suddenly, his net jerked violently, almost pulling him into the water. He struggled to hold on, his muscles straining as something tugged against him with incredible force. Panic set in, and for the first time in his life, Jandamarra felt a chill of fear. He glimpsed a shadow beneath the water, something massive and serpentine, and saw two glowing red eyes staring back at him.

With a mighty heave, the creature tore the net from his hands and disappeared into the depths, leaving Jandamarra trembling on the riverbank. He had come face to face with the Muldjewangk, and it had spared him that night—but only just.

The Wrath of the Muldjewangk

Word of Jandamarra’s encounter spread quickly through the Ngarrindjeri community, and fear settled like a heavy fog over the people. They knew that the Muldjewangk's appearance was a warning—a sign that they had overstepped their bounds. The elders gathered and decided it was time to make amends. They performed a sacred ceremony to appease the spirit of the waters, offering gifts of food, shells, and woven baskets, hoping to placate the creature’s wrath.

But the Muldjewangk’s anger could not be so easily quelled. For weeks afterward, the river seemed to change. The water grew murky, and fish became scarce. Boats would capsize without warning, and strange cries echoed through the night. It was as though the very soul of the river had turned against them.

One night, as the villagers huddled around their fires, a terrible storm blew in from the south. The wind howled, and rain lashed down in sheets, flooding the riverbanks. Amidst the chaos, a chilling cry rose from the depths of the river—a sound like the wailing of a hundred souls, and the waters surged upwards, threatening to swallow the entire village.

Jandamarra, still haunted by his encounter with the Muldjewangk, knew that this was no ordinary storm. The creature had risen, and it sought vengeance.

The Elder’s Journey

Seeing the desperation of his people, the village elder, Kulinyara, decided that something had to be done. He was a man who had walked many paths in his life and knew more of the old magic than anyone else. Gathering a small group of warriors, he set out to confront the Muldjewangk.

Kulinyara and his companions traveled deep into the heart of the river, guided by the light of the moon. They chanted ancient songs, songs that spoke of peace and respect, of the bond between the land, the waters, and their people. As they ventured further, the river grew darker, and the air became thick with an unspoken menace.

At last, they reached the heart of the Muldjewangk's domain—a vast, swirling whirlpool where the waters churned and frothed with an eerie glow. There, rising from the depths, the Muldjewangk emerged, its colossal form towering over the group. Its eyes, glowing with an otherworldly red light, bore down upon them with an intensity that threatened to drown their spirits in fear.

Kulinyara stepped forward, holding his staff high, and spoke to the creature in the old tongue, calling upon the spirit of the waters to listen. He acknowledged their transgressions, their arrogance, and their neglect of the ancient ways. He offered their sincerest apologies, promising that they would never again take the river's gifts for granted.

The Muldjewangk stared down at Kulinyara for what felt like an eternity. Then, slowly, it began to recede back into the depths, the water calming as it vanished from sight. The storm subsided, and the river returned to its tranquil state, but the villagers knew they would never forget the lesson taught to them by the spirit of the river.

The Legacy of the Muldjewangk

In the years that followed, the Ngarrindjeri people held true to their promise. They treated the river with the utmost respect, honoring the Muldjewangk with offerings during every season. The elders continued to pass down the legend, ensuring that no one would forget the dangers of arrogance and the importance of living in harmony with nature.

As for Jandamarra, he became one of the most revered fishermen in the tribe, not for his skill but for his humility. He often sat by the river’s edge, watching the water with a quiet reverence, always mindful of the creature that lurked just beneath the surface.

The Muldjewangk, however, was never seen again. It became a shadow, a ghost of the river, a reminder of the power that lies beneath even the calmest waters. And on nights when the moon was full, if you listened closely, you could still hear the faint, rumbling growl of the creature deep within the Murray River, as though it was watching, waiting, and remembering.

The legend of the Muldjewangk became a part of the land, a story that flowed through the veins of every Ngarrindjeri child, ensuring that the spirit of the river, and its ancient guardian, would never be forgotten.

And so, the Muldjewangk’s tale lives on, echoing through time and tide, as eternal and unyielding as the river itself.