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- Herausgeber: tredition
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
The main theme of the book is the exploration of cultural differences and the challenges that arise when people from different cultures come together in an Australian context. Through Michael and Brolga's relationship, the story examines the ways in which cultural barriers can be overcome through love and understanding. The theme of cultural exploration is further emphasized through Michael's investigation of the bones of human historical significance, which offers insights into the origins of the Aborigines. Additionally, the book touches on issues related to health disparities and how they can stem from one's heritage. Overall, the book explores the complexities of cultural differences and the impact they can have on individuals and their relationships.
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Seitenzahl: 93
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023
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MY LOVE AND BEYOND
AN AUSTRALIAN STORY OF ETERNAL CONNECTION
BEA ESCHEN
Copyright © 2016 Bea Eschen
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Foreword
Dream
The Time before
Brolga
Sacred Heritage
Death Dance
Poem
Also by Bea Eschen
I Was One Of Many Slaves
The Fruit Picker
Life of Sofia: The Cradle of the White Lioness
I, Yana
Seventy-Five
Orontius, God’s Juggler
Mafalda, the Juggler’s Daughter
My Love and Beyond
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Foreword
Foreword
Also by Bea Eschen
My Love and Beyond
Cover
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FOREWORD
This is a fictitious work. Names, characters, places, events and incidents are either the result of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, alive or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental.
DREAM
As I lie in my bed, my mind wanders into a strange and terrifying dream. I find myself amid a chaotic scene, where the land is being consumed by massive waves that rise and fall with a menacing force.
The buildings that once stood tall are now being torn apart by the unforgiving current, as cars, human bodies, and debris of all sorts are swept away in the torrent. The sea water is mixed with a thick layer of foam, and the chaos it brings seems to grow with each passing moment.
The destruction is beyond anything I have ever seen before, and the lightning that strikes from the sky only adds to the horror of the situation. It is as if nature itself has turned against humanity, unleashing a biblical wrath upon the world.
Amidst the chaos, I see a man clinging for dear life to a chimney on a rooftop, while a woman holds her child up high to grant it a fraction of its life. But their efforts are futile, as the next wave of destruction is already on its way.
In my dream the water around me evaporates. The giant waves withdraw into the open sea by an invisible force. And just as suddenly as the scene has appeared before me, it vanishes, leaving behind a vast and empty red desert. The scorching sun beats down upon the sands, melting the land beneath it. In the distance, a group of black figures stand out, gathering around a large fire that burns in the centre of a sandy island.
The black people stare out into the distance, as if searching for something that cannot be found. The silence of the desert is broken only by the crackling of the fire and the faint whisper of the wind. And for a moment, I feel a sense of peace, as if the world has finally found a moment of respite from the chaos that has consumed it.
I suddenly feel a mysterious presence when I roll over in my bed. A voice whispers in my ear, urging me to help the last remaining people on earth. I can hear the urgency in the voice, as if the fate of the world rests upon my shoulders.
'How can I help?’ I ask, my voice quivering with fear.
'Protect them from the Erinyes,' the voice replies. 'These goddesses of revenge will stop at nothing to punish those who have committed moral offenses, envy, and jealousy. You must shield them from harm.'
But I am sceptical. 'The Greek gods have no power over these people!”
'Who are you to question the power of the gods?' The voice is now sounding devilishly shrill.
I shake my head. 'These people are Aborigines. They have their own gods and beliefs.'
The voice fades away into the mist, leaving me alone with my thoughts. And in my dream, I find myself standing amongst the Aborigines, watching as they gather around an elder who sits cross-legged, his body adorned with intricate patterns of circles and spirals. He supports himself with a stick to keep his balance. His wild grey hair reaches down to his shoulders and his uncombed beard touches the dust of the earth.
The elder begins to speak, his voice calm and measured as he recounts the legend of the miraculous frog. And as he speaks, I feel a sense of peace wash over me. Perhaps the fate of the world is not solely in my hands after all. Perhaps the Aborigines have their own ways of protecting themselves from the wrath of the gods. For in their wisdom and their ancient knowledge, they hold the key to their own survival, and to the survival of the world itself.
'Long ago, in the days of our ancestors, in the dreamtime, there was a terrible drought. The trees had no leaves; the grass was yellow and withered. A hot wind blew, and the dried reeds rustled along the riverbank. The burning sand of the desert shimmered like a silver lagoon. The water had left the earth. Rivers and waterholes had dried up. The sea had retreated to the deepest valleys of the earth. The sun stood in the cloudless sky like a fiery glowing ball. Over the land there were only shadows of death and night. Many creatures died of thirst.'
The sound of the wind rustling through the trees silences the old man for a moment. The Aborigines, sensing the shift in the air, lift their faces towards the breeze. Some of them close their eyes, as if in a trance, while others tremble with pleasure as they breathe in the cooling draught.
I, too, am entranced by the moment. I want to know what they smell and how they feel, to live through the same sensations they are experiencing. I resist the urge to wake up, knowing that I need to hear the story to the very end.
And after a long stillness, the old man begins to speak once more. His voice is calm and soothing, like the gentle rustling of leaves in the wind.
'To find a solution, all the animals gathered in the middle of Australia. They came from far away, from the mountains, the remaining sea valleys, the air, and the bush. After everyone had arrived, they found out that a frog named Moloch had swallowed the water, which had caused the drought. Moloch held all the water of the earth in his bladder. He was bloated and couldn't move. The animals sat in a large circle around the frog. Kangaroos, wallabies, koalas, possums, crocodiles, snakes, emus, cranes, and other birds. Together they conspired against Moloch to release the water to end the drought. An old wise owl coordinated the efforts of all animals. A bird called Kookaburra sat on a tree and laughed at his own jokes with an echo coming back, until he almost fell. But Moloch didn't want to move and stared stupidly ahead — as stupid as only a frog can stare. The next animal was a frillnecked lizard. She inflated her neck ruff, but the frog didn't think it was funny. Then the crane tried to cheer up the frog with his dance, but without success. The kangaroos jumped and leapt over each other, but Moloch just sat there staring at everyone.
When the animals ran out of ideas and after some arguments, which were alleviated by the old wise owl, Nabunum, a big eel, came out of a deep dried out waterhole. None of the animals believed that Nabunum could make the frog laugh, but the eel snaked back and forth until it touched the end of its tail with its head, bouncing up and down like a top, and knotting itself. Moloch opened his sleepy eyes, his face relaxed and he burst into a laugh that resembled a thunder and all the water of the earth came out of his body. It filled the dried-out riverbeds and waterholes and flooded the land. Only the highest mountain peaks stood out — like islands in the sea. The flood killed many people, animals, and plants.'
As he speaks, I feel myself being transported to a world that existed long before I was born, a world of magic and wonder, of beauty and danger. And I know that, no matter what happens to me in my waking life, I will always carry a piece of that world with me, deep in my soul.
There is a long break. No one speaks. Still in a circle, the Aborigines do not move and meditate in the dream time.
'We have to find Moloch,' one of the children speaks into the silence.
The elders of the group nod unanimously.
'We find him underground. He has been there since our dream time, waiting to come out to lay his eggs. He is now very thirsty and will free us from the flood.'
'Where is he?' one of the smallest asks.
'Mirabooka will show us,' one of the elders replies, pointing to the sky where the stars sparkle like diamonds.
'Who is Mirabooka?' another child asks.
'Mirabooka is our protector. He looks after us Aborigines and makes sure that we are well. Mirabooka's hands, feet and eyes are the stars of the Southern Cross. He is the eternal spirit of our well-being and looks down on us. He will show us where Moloch hides.'
I feel a sense of unease as I toss and turn in my sleep, my mind racing with what I just witnessed. Suddenly, my dream takes an unexpected turn, and I find myself transported to a futuristic city. The towering buildings that surround me stretch up to the sky, their mirrored facades gleaming in the bright light. The air is thick with the smell of pollution and the constant hum of flying drones and honking vehicles fill my ears.
