This story hails from hilly Wamran,
By the big blue Beerburrum,
By the towering Tibrogargan,
By the crooked one, Coonowrin,
By the twins, the Tunbubudla,
In the valley of Waraba,
Where lived the tribe of old Umballa.
It tells the tale of Nanangara
And her lover, young Kabali.
Umballa was a tribal elder.
Nanangara was his lubra.
But Umballa was not gentle.
He raped and beat young Nanangara, So while he slept she left his humpy. Nanangara stole by moonlight
From the humpy of Umballa,
Escaped in darkness wondering whether She could flee and shelter safely.
Morning found her by Waraba,
The creek that ran through Wamran Valley. Hot and tired she dived into it,
Refreshed herself in its cool water,
Happy to have found her freedom,
Not yet fearing for the future.
Kabali was a vested warrior
Belonging to the tribe Caboolture. He had come down to the poolside To check some nets along the creek-bank. Kabali watched young Nanangara As she chased a darting mullet.
As he watched the lovely lubra,
Laughing in the sparkling water,
He fell in love with Nanangara,
In love on sight with Nanangara.
“Shall I spear it?” called Kabali. “Are you hungry? I can cook it.” In surprise young Nanangara
Glanced quickly at the handsome hunter. “Oh, yes, I’m hungry,” said the lubra, “Could you catch the mullet for me?”
Kabali speared the fish and cooked it, And they ate its flesh together,
Getting to know one another.
Nanangara told Kabali
About the cruel man Umballa,
About her plight and flight to freedom. “I will help you,” vowed Kabali.
“Come to my tribe. Be my lubra.
My father is a tribal elder.
He will let you be my lubra
When he learns of what you’ve been through.”
Just then they heard the sound of shouting. Umballa’s friends were out and searching. “Come,” urged Kabali, “Hurry quickly.” They left the camp-fire and its ashes, Fled alarmed into the forest,
Hid running fast among the greenery. The hunters of the tribe Waraba
Following, saw trace of ashes,
Knew the couple were adjacent,
Combed the forest through to find them.
Kabali and the frightened lubra
Fled towards safety of Caboolture. At last they lost them in the forest, Rested thankful in the shadows,
But when young Nanangara strengthened, Kabali urged her once more onward To the sanctuary of his own tribe. They waded through the Creek Waraba To conceal their fleeing footprints, Then they went back to the forest. They came at evening to Hill Mulu. Too weary-limbed to climb its steepness They rested in dark Mulu’s shadow. In each other’s arms they slumbered.
Meanwhile the hunters who had followed Came at last into a clearing.
Baffled as to where they could be, And tired of chasing the young lubra, And envious of old Umballa,
They contrived to tell a story
Of how the lovers by black magic Turned to crows which rising skyward Winged away and thus escaped them.
Nanangara and her lover
Hurried onward to Caboolture, To the safety of his father,
To the arms of his dear mother. Kabali’s understanding parents Took pity on young Nanangara. They believed the Rainbow Serpent Had sent her to them for protection. His father told a story to the elders Of how the lubra had flown to them In the guise of a kingfisher
Across the waters of Waraba, And won the heart of young Kabali.
He declared the Rainbow Serpent
Desired peace between the tribe Waraba And its rival tribe Caboolture,
And the marriage of Kabali
To the mystic wandering lubra
Would unite the tribes forever;
They would be joined like creek and river.
So it was with much rejoicing
They held a marriage feast corroboree, And Waraba and Caboolture
Were united, creek and river.