The Cult
Mamaragan has no shrine and no clergy; his cult is the storm calendar of western Arnhem Land, kept the way all country is kept — in song, protocol, and attention. When the knock-'em-down storms of the wet arrive, they arrive as him: the flashes are his fire, the thunder his voice moving along the escarpment. Kunwinjku song-men hold the cycles that name and address the lightning beings, and custodians know which places are his and what conduct they require. The evidence is strong but indirect — a ritual life distributed across seasons and custodians rather than concentrated in temples, and partly closed to outsiders by the same law that keeps it working.


