His name is Amitu, and he is a Kokatha man from the southern desert of the Ancient Land. He stands alone, the sole of his right foot resting against his left knee, the spear in his right hand providing perfect balance. He is waiting. He has been waiting like this since dawn, but he feels no fatigue; he is a strong man. The father of two sturdy young boys, he is an excellent hunter and highly respected amongst his clan. But he is far from his clan now. They are many days’ walk to the south.

In a dream, Amitu has been summoned by the Rainbow Serpent to the site of sacred boulders. He has been travelling northward for ten days, following one of the many Tjurkurpa tracks that lead to Kata Tjuta and Uluru, and he is now in Pitjantjatjara country, less than one day’s walk from the mother rock of all people. Yet the spirits do not wish him to travel any farther. It is here, beside this waterhole, that he knows he must wait.

The day lacks even a scintilla of breeze. The land is an unruffled carpet of red, and the leaves of the desert willow droop motionless over the near-dry bed of the waterhole. The sun is high in the sky, the heat at its zenith and all is breathlessly still. No bird flies overhead, no insect stirs the dust, no animal rustles the nearby spinifex grass.

The land is waiting, Amitu thinks. The spirits are close. He can feel their presence, and he has slowed his breathing to a minimum, blanketing his mind of thought in order to receive them. He is in a trance-like state, but even so he cannot quell his sense of fear. What if the spirits are mamu? Deep in his heart, he believes that the Rainbow Serpent would not summon him to his destruction, for he has committed no wrong that would warrant the visitation of devil spirits upon him. But still the fear is there.

He can see them now, coming from the west across the rolling plains of sand, dark shadows dancing in the shimmering heat haze. Nearer they come. Nearer and nearer until his entire vision is filled with their dancing forms. They are chanting as they surround him, and their voices are the sound of the land itself, the echo of all things living. Like flickering tongues of fire they envelop his body, and the song they sing envelops his mind. Amitu is being consumed. But he is no longer afraid. He is joyful. These spirit beings are not mamu. These are good spirit beings who wish him well.

Amitu gives himself up to the spirit beings. He joins in their corroboree, dancing and singing until evening descends, and then on and on throughout the night. He repeats the song he is taught. It is the Song of the Seven Stars, the spirit beings tell him. He does not understand the song’s meaning, but he does not question its importance. Over and over he sings the words, until he knows every single one by heart.

Throughout the whole of the next day Amitu dances and sings. Then, as the sun sets, he falls unconscious, and the spirit beings come to him in a dream. He sees them staring at his inert body where it lies in the dust, and he watches as they gather about him. One by one, they kneel at his side, and he listens as they complete their prophecy in song.

In Amitu’s dream, the spirit beings foretell of a series of cataclysmic events that will befall the land and his people far in the future. It will be a time when men with white skin inhabit the world of the Kokatha, and that of the Pitjantjatjara, and of the Yankuntjatjara, and of many others who roam the Ancient Land.

Seven stars will be born, the spirit beings tell Amitu; seven births, and each birth will rival the others in ferocity. There will be a flash of light so powerful that any who look directly at it will lose their sight, and as each star rushes into the sky, a cloud of birth dust will follow, killing all those it touches.

The spirit beings foretell that the earth will become cursed, a barren place where no creatures will survive. For these stars, they say, are mamu. These newly born mamu will wield great power, and will bring about the death of many of Amitu’s people. The unborn children of Amitu’s people, too, will die, all victims of the birth dust. And the land itself will become mamu country.

Amitu awakes alone, and cries for his people. He reaches out his arms, pleading with the spirit beings to intercede with the Great Serpent and save his people. All is silent. He weeps, and the desert dust drinks his tears.

Then a breeze stirs the leaves of the willow. The spinifex grass rustles and, carried on the wind, he hears the voices of the spirit beings: