Once upon a time there was a blind man called Nimbamung who lived alone with his dog. One evening, as he was thinking of collecting some tree grubs on the morrow, he hafted a stone axe-blade, not taking to his pallet until he was satisfied with the balance.
Next morning, taking bow and arrows and the newly hafted axe, he set off into the forest to look for tree grubs, his dog showing him the way. They found a right good tree where tree grubs should be and, ripping away the bark with his axe, Nimbamung started to flick the grubs into the bamboo barrel he had brought with him.
Now Ambwerk happened to be close by at the time. He heard the old fellow at his work and he thought he would see what was happening. So, creeping through the undergrowth, he hid himself at the edge of the clearing. Who was this man? he wondered. Why was he behaving so strangely?
Ambwerk waited for a while, watching closely. Suddenly he understood. The fellow must be blind!
Stepping carefully so as not to make a noise, Ambwerk eased his way through the clearing and started to scuffle Nimbamung’s grubs into a barrel of hrs own...
‘Out of my way! Leave my grubs alone!’ Nimbamung scolded, thinking his dog was stealing the grubs.
Ambwerk stayed with Nimbamung the whole day long, fiIling his barrels with the grubs which Nimbamung and his dog had found. Afterwards, he followed Nimbamung to his home.
The fellow took a strange trail, eventually stopping in front of a wamunga shrub. Creeping close, Ambwerk waited to see what would happen.
Nimbamung blew his spittle over the bush and uttered a spell: the leaves of the wamunga shrub parted to reveal an open door leading into a hole in the ground.
Ambwerk memorized the spell. Then, as the dog led the way down, Ambwerk followed close behind, leaving Nimbamung to bring up the rear and shut the shrubbery door.
Down inside the hole, Ambwerk saw they had come on a beautiful mwenk. Coconuts a-plenty grew around the perimeter, areca-nuts hung in thick clusters, the bananas were bending with fruit. Ambwerk started to help himself. And Nimbamung, hearing the sounds of eating and thinking again that it was his dog, scolded the animal, shouting to it to stop.
Inside Nimbamung’s house quantities of meat hung from the rafters, and a large heap of yams was piled on the floorboards. Ambwerk set to on the meat.
Nimbamung took a small yam, scraped it clean, cut it into small pieces and put them into his stew-pot. Ambwerk followed suit—with a large yam, a hunk of wallaby meat, and some saltwood. He took a coconut, scraped out the meat and mixed the latter with coconut milk. Ambwerk did himself proud, eating hugely, very quickly, while Nimbamung, eating slowly, cursed the dog which he thought was eating all his food.
They slept.
Next morning, Nimbamung rose early to go hunting. Ambwerk slept on. When he awoke he gorged himself on all the good food that was there, collected as much as he could carry and, remembering the spell, opened the shrubbery door and set off for home.
Arrived back at his village, Ambwerk showed his younger brother all the food he had stolen, hanging his spoils from the rafters.
‘Where did you get all that food?’ asked Tuman.
Ambwerk told Tuman all about Nimbamung, that he was blind, what a lot of food he had, and how easy it was to rob him. Tuman was excited. ‘I’ll go along tomorrow!’ he exclaimed. ‘I’ll go and collect as much as I can and bring it back here!’
But Ambwerk had not finished. ‘Mind now,’ he cautioned. ‘When the old fellow opens the door you must get in after the dog and before he does—he shuts the door behind him. When you get into his mwenk, eat as much as you like—but leave his dog alone. Let the dog eat as much as it wants.’
Next morning, Tuman went off into the forest to look for Nimbamung. He found him where Ambwerk had said he would be, and he did as Ambwerk had told him to do. He filled his own barrels with grubs while Nimbamung, cursing his dog, shovelled pith and rotting bark into his own. He followed the old man to the wamunga shrub, crept close as the fellow blew his spittle over the shrub and uttered the spell, then darted in ahead of him, following the dog down into the mwenk.
There it was, just as Ambwerk had told him. He picked some bananas.
‘Stop eating my food!’ Nimbamung shouted crossly. ‘Get out of it, there!’ Still he thought it was his dog. Grumbling and scolding, he put a pot on the fire, sliced a small yam, and threw the pieces into the pot.
Tuman followed suit with a large yam, some saltwood, and grubs. The water bubbled merrily, the food was cooked, and Tuman ate fast and furiously while Nimbamung, groping blindly, eating little, muttered and swore at his dog.
Then, as often may happen, Nimbamung’s dog nosed its way into Tuman’s food. He hit it on the snout. The dog yelped.
‘What’s that?’ Nimbamung roared. ‘Who hit my dog?’ he raged, rising to his feet and taking down his adze. ‘Who is in here eating my food?’
Tuman fled to the back of the hut and hid himself behind a pile of water barrels. And Nimbamung, stumbling blindly, thrusting and swinging his adze, crashed against the pile of barrels as he brought the weapon down in a wild overhand stroke...
Tuman could do nothing. The blade struck him between the eyes and he fell lifeless to the floor.
Nimbamung carved the corpse, cooked the flesh, and ate it. Head and bones he hung under the porch of his house.
After five days of waiting, Ambwerk knew that something had gone awry with his brother. So, taking his bow and arrows, he went to the wamunga shrub, blew his spittle over it, and uttered the spell. The door opened and he went down into Nimbamung’s mwenk. He saw the bones hanging in the porch, he recognized the head.
Ambwerk returned to his village at once. He selected a large pig and placed it on the pekas in front of his house. Then he fetched bunches of areca-nuts and placed them beside the pig. All the men of the village gathered round to hear what was afoot.
Ambwerk told them about Nimbamung and what had happened to Tuman. Something would have to be done.
Next day, then, the villagers shouldered their spears and set off for Nimbamung’s home. Ambwerk uttered the spell and blew his spittle over the wamunga shrub. The door opened and the party trooped down to the mwenk.
Ambwerk was first with his spear, thrusting it deep into Nimbamung’s side. Then each of the others followed Ambwerk’s example, turn by turn, until all had had a share in the killing. They killed Nimbamung’s dog too, packed all the meat and food-stuffs they could carry into string bags, and then piled faggots around the outside of Nimbamung’s house.
When the pyre was ready, they placed Nimbamung and his dog on the top and set it alight. They waited there until house, man, and dog had been entirely consumed, burnt in the flames. Then they returned to their village.