Also known as the yaroma, the yara-ma-yha-who is
one of Australia's most feared supernatural entities, but it may also have a
basis in reality, at least according to veteran cryptozoologist Dr Bernard
Heuvelmans. For he speculated in his classic tome On the Track of Unknown
Animals (1958) that perhaps it was inspired by ancient memories of
southeast Asian tarsiers, those small but exclusively carnivorous, nocturnal primates with gargantuan orbs
for eyes and weird superficially sucker-like finger-tips and toe-tips.
Heuvelmans deemed it
possible that their unearthly, goblinesque appearance may have sufficiently
impressed itself upon the native peoples whose descendants subsequently
travelled to and settled in Australia, giving rise there to the aboriginal
nations, for their collective memories, passed down from generation to
generation Down Under, to have preserved a still-lingering version of it, distorted
and embellished with lurid imaginings, ultimately yielding the nightmarish yara-ma-yha-who.
Whatever the explanation
for it, however, the yara-ma-yha-who is truly terrifying, not only in
appearance but also in activity, as now revealed here in my retelling of its
traditional grisly behaviour upon encountering an unfortunate human.
Did ancient memories of tarsiers
inspire native aboriginal belief in the yara-ma-yha-who? (© LDC, Inc
Foundation/Wikipedia – CC BY-SA 3.0 licence; ©
Pierre Fidenci/Wikipedia – CC BY-SA 2.5 licence)
Creatures of shadow come
in many forms, but few are not only more monstrous in physical form but also
more hideous in predatory behaviour than the horrific yara-ma-yha-who of the
Australian bush, which is active during the daylight hours but lurks hidden in
tall fig trees amid the concealing darkness encompassed by their burly overlapping
branches. Here it sits, waiting…
Twilight had not yet
fallen as the hunter walked down a long tree-fringed path leading towards his
settlement just beyond the forest’s perimeter. Peering fearfully all around, he
inwardly cursed himself for not having waited until the sun had set in the sky
before journeying through this ill-omened place. For his people’s ancient lore
warned of the terrors that dark, lonely locales concealed within their black
hearts even during the span of daytime.
Shafts of sunlight
filtered through the roof-like canopy of interspersed branches overhead,
lighting the gloom below – and revealing a fairly large creature squatting on a
sturdy branch just ahead. A koala, perhaps, or even a tree kangaroo? Gripping
his spear, he moved closer, as the sunlight slowly transformed the entity from
a featureless silhouette into a furry being that seemed to have scarlet skin.
Surely, though, reasoned the hunter, this abnormal hue was due merely to the fiery rays of the soon-to-be-setting sun falling upon it? He fervently hoped so, because the alternative was too terrifying even to contemplate. Fortunately, the creature was sitting with its back to him, so if he could just walk by softly, without attracting its attention, all would be well.
Surely, though, reasoned the hunter, this abnormal hue was due merely to the fiery rays of the soon-to-be-setting sun falling upon it? He fervently hoped so, because the alternative was too terrifying even to contemplate. Fortunately, the creature was sitting with its back to him, so if he could just walk by softly, without attracting its attention, all would be well.
Unfortunately, his
foot trod heavily upon a dry, shed twig, which snapped loudly in the evening
stillness. Immediately, the creature turned, and as the hunter gazed up into
that hideous visage, he knew without hesitation that it was already too late.
Just as he had dreaded, what he had encountered was neither koala nor tree
kangaroo but was, instead, a yara-ma-yha-who!
(Public domain/Pete Linforth)
The eyes of this
fiendish entity were enormous – twin globes of glowing evil that almost filled
its entire face within its disproportionately large head. And as its hands
stretched towards him, the doomed hunter observed with skin-crawling
fascination that each of its long spindly fingers and toes bore a large flat
sucker at its tip. Instantly, the yara-ma-yha-who leaped down upon the
terrified hunter, knocking him onto the floor, its suckers pressed against his
quivering body. And as he lay there, with this foul vampyric beast upon his
chest, he could feel each sucker drawing blood from his body, draining him of
his life-force.
That alone would have
been more than enough horror to withstand, but the hunter knew from his
people’s lore that there was even worse to come – much, much worse. Suddenly,
when finally satiated with blood, the yara-ma-yha-who opened its wide toothless
mouth - and, just like a snake, dislocated its jaws, so that its gaping maw now
resembled an immense black cavern. Then, leaning forward, in a single enormous
gulp it swallowed whole the hapless hunter, weak and paralysed with fear, but
still living.
After executing a
macabre dance designed solely to facilitate the movement of its engulfed human
victim down its gullet into its distended stomach, the yara-ma-yha-who squatted
back down...and waited. After a while, it opened its gigantic mouth again, and
vomited forth its prey. Although hideously disfigured by the creature’s highly
corrosive gastric juices, the hunter, incredibly, remained alive, but was
somewhat smaller in size. When the yara-ma-yha-who saw this, it promptly
swallowed him once more, then performed its bizarre dance of digestion.
This grotesque
sequence of events was repeated several times, until finally, when vomited up
yet again, the hunter, barely living but still breathing, was no bigger than the
yara-ma-yha-who, and totally unrecognisable. When it inspected him this time,
the yara-ma-yha-who seemed satisfied, and in an instant it had gone, leaping
into a nearby tree – to await another victim.
What had formerly been
the hunter, meanwhile, lay there on the ground as it gradually revived, its
furry skin burnt scarlet from the yara-ma-yha-who’s metabolic acid. Then it
raised itself up onto its haunches, its huge eyes blinking in the darkness, its
suckered fingers twitching as if electrified. Soon, just like its creator, it
would leap into a tree, to watch, and wait – a new yara-ma-yha-who, hungry for
human blood and life-force, having already forgotten that it too had once been
human.
This ShukerNature blog article is exclusively excerpted from Creatures of Shadow and Night, a
book-in-progress written by me in which I retell the legends associated with a global range of supernatural entities of darkness, and complemented throughout by spectacular full-colour illustrations specially prepared by highly-acclaimed graphics artist Andy Paciorek.
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