I remember that old blind woman, Janjingu she was called and she had only just come in from the northern desert but she trotted off to the Line without a moment's hesitation. "The new begging has been explained to me," she said and she went and perched herself right on the edge of a wooden sleeper, standing firm in her own darkness and she didn't even flinch when she heard the train approaching. She held out her hands in a gesture of supplication and lifted her blind face upwards as if she was expecting God himself to reach down and kiss her. It was an act of faith and it worked. The train stopped right beside her although it had not yet reached the station and something about her appearance made everyone who saw her very generous. The windows of several carriages were opened and she was pelted with cooked meats, pieces of fruit and cigarettes. She stood quite still until the inundation was over and then she peeled off the dress that I had given her that morning and piled her treasures into it, feeling for them on the ground. Naked and triumphant she set off back to my camp, never noticing the laughter that followed her.
Blackburn,J.1994. Daisy Bates in the Desert. p149. Melbourne: Minerva.