Lands of Red and Gold #45: Content To Lie In the Sun
“I do believe I would like another cup.”
- Reported words of William Baffin, English navigator, explorer and eventual plutocrat, when first tasting jeeree [Aururian lemon tea] in Torimi [Port Stephens, Australia], 1636
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Imagine, if you would, that you can step into a machine unparalleled in the history of the world. One which can travel not only back in time, but into worlds that history has sidestepped, where the river of time has followed a new course. The worlds of if.
If you could step through such a machine, you would find a place which the history you know calls south-eastern Queensland, but in allohistory is called the Coral Coast [1]. This is a narrow band of coastal lands east of the continental divide [the Great Dividing Ranges], fringed by warm seas. With a subtropical climate, the Coral Coast is a land of frequent sun, lush plant growth, more fertile soils and heavier rainfall than most parts of this driest of inhabited continents. Sometimes the rains fall so heavily that the coastal rivers rise in quick, devastating floods.
While long inhabited by hunter-gather peoples, the first Gunnagalic-speaking farmers arrived here during the Great Migrations, around 500 BC, and began to gradually dominate this land. The process of displacing the earlier peoples was slower and less complete than in most other areas touched by the Great Migrations; there were still hunter-gatherers living in parts of the Coral Coast over four hundred years after the first Gunnagalic farmers arrived.
The land which these ancient farmers established was in some ways welcoming, in others restricted. The mountains to the west were both a barrier to exploration and a defence against other newcomers; beyond them lay the sweeping, thinly-populated region called the Neeburra [Darling Downs]. To the east lay the sea, at this time untouched by any other people. Further south along the coast dwelt the Bungudjimay, a people who would later develop into head-hunting raiders, but who at this time were largely inward-looking. Further south inland were the highlands which formed ancient Aururia’s key source of tin for bronze-working. To the north lay warmer lands where their ancient staple crops of red yams and murnong could not grow [2].
These early farmers gradually evolved into the people who called themselves the Kiyungu. Located at the northernmost extremity of Gunnagalic farming, they were for a long time largely insulated from developments further south; one later scholar of the Kiyungu famously remarked, “History mostly passed them by.”
The Kiyungu were never completely isolated, of course. Long ago, they learned to sail the coast further north to places where they could dive for corals, which served as a valuable trade good both within Kiyungu society and when trading further south. Their proximity to the sources of tin meant that they had abundant bronze tools for their purposes. From their hunter-gatherer predecessors, they acquired a belief in the veneration of the bunya tree, and both the belief and the tree itself would spread south along the trade routes [3].
Still, for so long the Kiyungu were a people content mostly to live under the subtropical sun, divided into city-states which squabbled amongst themselves. With mountains to the west and only hunter-gatherers to the north, they did not have any major external enemies, and they were not very warlike. In their distant location, they were protected from the biggest changes that affected the south; the Empire never reached this far, and the ancient Kiyungu were only barely aware of its existence.
Change first came to the Kiyungu through political and religious developments among their neighbours. The Bungudjimay to the south gradually consolidated into the kingdom of Daluming, and began to expand their head-hunting raids, which started to touch the Coral Coast around 1300 AD. Soon after, the Tjarrling faith [related to Plirism] spread to the Yalatji who lived beyond the western mountains, and some of those peoples made religiously-inspired visits further east, including some missionaries-in-force.
Fresh inspiration came to the Kiyungu around this time, too, with the first visits from Maori explorers around 1350 AD. These contacts were few and did not endure, since the Kiyungu lands were distant even by Maori navigators’ standards, and the two peoples had no goods which the other valued enough to sustain long-term trade.
Still, they had one important effect. Of all the Aururian peoples, the Kiyungu were the keenest sailors apart from the Nangu, and had a keen interest in the Maori vessels. Like the Nangu before them, the Kiyungu adopted lateen sails, twin-hulled ships and some knowledge of navigational techniques. Unlike the Islanders, the Kiyungu did not develop these techniques much further, since their interest was initially limited to better ships for reaching the coral reefs to the north, and for more reliable fishing.
The greatest change which came to the Kiyungu was not from politics or religion, but from the appearance of new, tropically-viable staple crops. The initial contact with the Maori was limited enough that the two peoples did not exchange crops, but the Maori’s crops of kumara [sweet potato] and taro were adopted by peoples further south, and these crops gradually spread north along the coast, reaching the Kiyungu around 1450.
About half a century before that, a new crop had appeared of its own accord in Kiyungu fields: a new form of yam. It was smaller than the common yams, and needed to be cultivated through cuttings, since at first it did not develop seeds. The Kiyungu never noticed that it needed more rainfall, too; that was not a problem in the lands along the Coral Coast.
What mattered to the Kiyungu was that they found that these new yams were easy to grow without the stunting problem that sometimes troubled their common yams. That gave them reason to grow it, and this motivation only increased when they realised that the lesser yam could be grown further north, too. There was, in fact, no apparent limit to where it could be cultivated.
The first lesser yams were planted further north in small fields adjacent to ports, to provide food for the ships of coral-divers. But it would not take long for the Kiyungu to find motivation to plant them even further north. This motivation, too, would only increase when kumara and taro reached the Kiyungu...
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When it comes time for future linguists, anthropologists and other -ists to study the Kiyungu, they will note that these are in many ways the most distinctive of all the Gunnagalic peoples, in their language, their religion, and their broader culture.
Linguists will note that the Kiyungu still speak a language related to the other members of the Gunnagalic language family. Nevertheless, its grammar, vocabulary and even phonology differs notably from its linguistic cousins. While the majority of its words and grammatical features have equivalents elsewhere, a significant minority of its basic words have no equivalent in other Gunnagalic languages. Most notably, most word roots relating to water, boats and fishing are unique to the Kiyungu, as are many words related to hunting. Even the names of many of familiar animals have changed; most Gunnagalic languages have related words for animals such as kangaroos and wombats, but the Kiyungu words are distinct.
This shift in vocabulary will be inferred (correctly) by future linguists to be the result of a substratum of word roots which have been borrowed from a now extinct language; the peoples who lived along the Coral Coast before the ancestors of the Kiyungu reached there.
Most Gunnagalic peoples displaced their predecessors during the Great Migrations, but the less effective agriculture in the north meant that the early Kiyungu mingled much more considerably with the previous inhabitants. This included a considerable portion of their vocabulary, particularly that related to hunting and fishing.
The intermingling of peoples influenced the Kiyungu in other notable ways, particularly religion and social structures. Later scholars of Gunnagalic studies would note that the Gunnagalic peoples share more than just a common ancestral language; they have also inherited some significant common social structures and, in many cases, common religious beliefs. The ancient social divisions into kitjigal were represented in one form or another in most later Gunnagalic peoples. The Kiyungu, however, preserved no trace of those ancient institutions; a sign that their social system had been influenced by other cultures. Likewise, their own tradition of mentorship with Elder Brothers and Elder Sisters [4] found no comparison amongst other Gunnagalic peoples.
For religious beliefs, students of comparative mythology would later note the common deities and common myths believed by many of the Gunnagalic peoples. Many scholars could compare equivalent gods (including similar forms of their names), identify the ancestral forms, and recognise the places were earlier myths were adapted into later structures.
The Kiyungu mythology would be amongst those which later scholars would identify as having many points of comparison with other Gunnagalic peoples. However, they would also note one significant feature which is unique to the Kiyungu, and which they will again assume (correctly) to be the result of non-Gunnagalic influence.
While most of the Kiyungu deities were recognisably derived from ancient Gunnagalic beliefs, none of them had related names to their Gunnagalic counterparts. Most of the deities had common attributes and myths, but their names were distinct. Instead of related names, Kiyungu deities have titles which sound as if they were originally used as euphemisms or praise-names, with the original names for the deities later being lost. To the Kiyungu, the Rainbow Serpent is called the Curved One, the Twins (or Fire Brothers) are called Firstborn and Secondborn, while the Green Lady is called the Wanderer. By comparing the changes in the Kiyungu language, scholars are able to identify the original Kiyungu names for these deities, but the names themselves are not attested in the Kiyungu mythology.
Still, despite the best efforts of later scholars, for one important Kiyungu deity, they cannot find a counterpart in other Gunnagalic cultures. This is a deity who is considered a troublemaker, a negative influence, a source of much discomfort in the world. This is also a deity who is apparently alien to the common Gunnagalic religious heritage; it must have been a pre-Gunnagalic deity who was believed in fervently enough to be absorbed into Kiyungu religious beliefs.
Unfortunately, where the names of the other Kiyungu deities can be deduced by comparison to other Gunnagalic languages, the name of this deity is lost to history. Without the Kiyungu preserving the name, it can never be known. All that remains is the euphemism for this deity; the Kiyungu title translates literally as He Who Must Be Blamed.
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By 1618, the Kiyungu have put to good use the new crops which they acquired over the last few centuries. They now inhabit over one thousand kilometres of the Aururian coastline, stretching from their northernmost major city of Quamba [Mackay, QLD] to Woginee [Tweed Heads, NSW] in the south. This expanse marks the greatest geographical distance inhabited by any one people in Aururia. Yet the Kiyungu are scattered, without any true political unity, and only the vaguest sense of common identity.
Kiyungu-inhabited territory is not contiguous. Their northward expansion has been largely by sea, and so even in 1618, Kiyungu farmers have not entirely displaced hunter-gatherers along the coast. They have established outposts at all of the convenient ports, but in the more rugged coastal areas, some non-farming peoples still occupy the land.
The Kiyungu are also confined in their landward advances, since the continental divide is never too far inland. Kiyungu do not venture west of the mountains in any significant numbers, since there is little to interest them inland. They prefer to fish for their meat, rather than farm emus or hunt wild animals. The sea provides both their most convenient transportation and their best source of wealth; while the Kiyungu harvest a variety of spices which more distant peoples would value, to the Kiyungu themselves, these are commonplace.
Most of the Kiyungu live in or near city-states along the Coral Coast or the more northerly cities. In the northern Kiyungu outposts, political organisation is confined to this level, as indeed it was amongst all Kiyungu cities until relatively recently. The Kiyungu are ruled by monarchs who come from the same (very extended) family, and who were usually able to maintain order in their own cities, but never really capable of building larger states. The perpetual problem was one of control; collecting tribute from another city-state was easy enough, but conquest required appointing a viceroy, who in time would be likely to declare independence on his own.
Recently, this trend has been partly altered amongst the southern Kiyungu. The need for common defence against Daluming raids and Yalatji proselytisation has led to the development of the League, a loose alliance which exists to resolve disputes amongst member states and encourage mutual defence against enemies. The League is not a solid alliance, but the threat of ostracisation or joint attack from its neighbours is usually enough to bring member cities into line when there are disagreements.
The Kiyungu population density, even in the south, remains reasonably low. Their overall population is growing rapidly thanks to the potential of sweet potato and lesser yams to secure their food supply, but northward expansion offers a population growth outlet. Most of the more adventuresome or simply down-on-their-luck types amongst the Kiyungu choose to strike it north to acquire land, potentially new wealth, or just a fresh start. The northward march continues even in 1618; some pioneering farmers are pushing north past Quamba. There is no geographic barrier to stop them until they reach what another history would name Torres Strait.
For those Kiyungu who are settled, though, both in north and south, they still have much of the old laidback attitude of their forebears. They fish, they dive for coral, they eat spicy food, and they do, in fact, like to lie in the sun. Life usually finds its own pace amongst the Kiyungu. Like most Aururian farming peoples who use perennial crops, they have a labour surplus, but as often as not they are content to use the time simply to relax rather than find some industrious pursuit.
The Kiyungu are not completely isolated from other farming peoples, but virtually all of their contacts are with the often-unfriendly Yalatji to the west, or the less organised peoples to the south who are also victims of Daluming raids. They live close enough to the ancient sources of tin that they can still import as much of that metal as they need to make bronze, an alloy which suits all of their metalworking needs. In 1618, they have had only the most sporadic contact with the Islanders, and none of their immediate neighbours use iron to any meaningful degree, so the Kiyungu remain firmly in the Bronze Age.
Collecting coral has been a Kiyungu habit for nearly two millennia, and their taste for it has not diminished. Their sailors still search the Inner Sea [ie the waters inside the Great Barrier Reef] for some of the more valued and colourful types. It is the basis of much of their own jewellery and ornamentation, and the main trade good which they exchange further south for tin. Most of their other main ornamentation comes from gold. The Kiyungu no longer have any active gold mines, but their ancestors discovered and exploited several small alluvial gold fields in earlier times [5]. Much of that gold remains in Kiyungu jewellery, although some has also been traded further south.
Thus, in 1618, the Kiyungu were a people who had lived on their own nearly independent path for a long time, and no inclination of the storms gathering beyond their mental horizons. Unlike most Aururian peoples, though, great change would first come to the Kiyungu not from Raw Men, but from other Aururians.
In 1630, the first Nangu sailed to the Coral Coast under the command of Werringi, later called the Bold. This was a visit of exploration, like occasional Islander visits before. Unlike those earlier visits, though, Werringi had the determination to make sure that this time, contact would be sustained...
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[1] The Coral Coast corresponds roughly to the historical regions of Gold Coast, Moreton Bay and Sunshine Coast in south-eastern Queensland, although it stretches slightly further north and south.
[2] Red yams do not grow in tropical latitudes due to insufficient shortening of days to trigger their tuber formation. Murnong is too heat-sensitive to grow so far north, except in highland regions (which this region mostly lacks).
[3] The bunya tree (Araucaria bidwillii) is a kind of conifer which produces erratic but large yields of edible seeds. Its veneration is an ancient phenomenon, and the occasions when it produces seeds are times for celebration among the Kiyungu.
[4] This institution of mentorship in the Kiyungu involves an older man (or more rarely, woman) taking on responsibility as the guardian, guide and lover of a younger person of the same gender. The Kiyungu view this as the best way for a person to learn about love, life, proper values, and social order. It also usually involves teaching a valuable craft skill, too. The formal role as Elder Brother or Elder Sister ends when the younger is deemed ready for marriage, although the elder party will usually still provide advice to the younger throughout their lives.
[5] The largest of these was in historical Gympie, Queensland, which was the site of a gold rush in early colonial Queensland.
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Thoughts?
