My historical studies informed me that it was Julia Caesar’s fateful anniversary, March 15th. It was of no consequence as I sat in the gardening shed, that served as my Docker River office, wrestling with the monthly Community Report due into Alice Springs by the end of the week. Old Nosepeg Tjapurula strode in. “Tjungari, two tjitji gone missing! Bin lookim ebrywhere but nutchin.” It had been about four hours since the boys were last seen, playing out behind the community shop.
Tjapurula and I organised several search parties. One mob, on foot, went south towards the hills. Another vehicle, with several keen-eyed men and women, went off west. Nosepeg and I took off East, towards Puta Puta, along the road leading back 230 kilometres to Ayers Rock. I use the term “road” loosely, as reality meant following the two-wheel ruts, sunk deeply into, over and through the unending dunes of the Gibson Desert.
Me driving enabled Tjapurula to maintain his casual, but eagle-eyed scan of the track. Within minutes, he had picked up their tracks. He reported that they went up and off the road a few times but came back. We were now only crawling along, but regardless of my intense searching, I couldn’t see what he was seeing!
In sensed frustration, Nosepeg tersely yelled “Lock down, Tjungari, lock down. Dare, you see im?” I stopped the truck. We both got out, and the old man stomped around to the front of the Toyota. There were the feintest undulations in the sand, partially obscured by a recent car tyre. With his stubby index finger, he pointed and sought my understanding. “You see him now, Tjungari?” “Yuai, palya”, I limply replied, trusting implicitly in this bushman’s ancient skills. I could see the barest outline of what might have been two little toes in front of a partial heal!
We climbed back into the Toyota and were off again. A couple of kilometres further along, and we saw the youngsters. The boys had dug a trench in the creek bed and were playing in the shallow bath, filled by recent rains.