Another Country

Here we are at Mungoobada, a Garawa (Aboriginal) community on the Robinson River 150 km southwest of Borroloola. We are staying with Robyn’s cousin Lyn and husband John. Lyn is nursing in the community health clinic. John is teaching and selecting school students to study at Carey Grammar in Melbourne. It’s a fantastic opportunity for us to see the inside of an aboriginal community. Noah and Georgie are students for the day at the school. Lyn has just arrived home after a callout at 2am to attend to a woman in labour. The woman had not presented at any time at the clinic during her pregnancy and only requested help when in deep contractions. Lyn had arranged a medivac aeroplane that arrived at 8.30 this morning. There is such a shortage of doctors that the medivac aircraft had to wait until dawn before it took off from Nhulunbuy (Gove). The doctor arrived just in time, 20 minutes before the boy was born. Everybody is healthy and much relieved.

The more we travel across central and northern Australia, the more I appreciate that this is really another country. The secure, European lifestyle of Melbourne and tidy open spaces of Victoria are worlds away from the geographical and social topographies of the north.

In this part of the country, Indigenous Australia is front and centre. There are Aboriginal people sitting around the streets, waiting outside shops, sleeping or talking in parks. Passing time is a problem, grog and gambling are tragic time wasters. A couple of nights ago, we had a counter meal at the Borroloola pub, the pub without beer. The pub lost its licence from serving drunks. Apparently there were so many drunk people they were a hazard on the road outside that pub. The acting publican said that since losing it’s licence, the police had reported that domestic violence was down 90 percent and there were similar changes in health issues.

I’ve got to admit that the publican’s accusation that “you Southerners don’t know anything about Aboriginals” is not unfair. In Melbourne or country Victoria, we are unlikely to notice Indigenous people in our midst unless they are football or movie heroes.

The Robinson River community is peaceful and friendly. The houses are well maintained and new houses are being built. There are roughly 300 people; most of the adults are employed in jobs to service the community or business enterprises. The CDEP scheme is fundamental to most of this employment and the prospect of its demise is worrisome. The community is tightly run by an administrator. This paternalistic approach seems to be appropriate in this community, and possibly in many other, however, there is no one approach that suits all, contrary to the John Howard new policy.

We have also seen other examples of Aboriginal communities and enterprises that appear to be successful such as the Guluyambi Tour at Kakadu. However, as the publican was keen to point out, there are plenty of failures, examples of wasted tax payers money and opportunities.

As one of those ‘do gooder’ Southerners, I find the situation perplexing but not without hope. There are certainly no significant one-off solutions although the fact that the Federal Government is finally putting the issue up front is positive. Control of alcohol is fundamental. However, it looks like it’s another one-off election headline grabber rather than a well thought through plan for the long term.

Graeme

Paper Bark

Paper bark (obviously coming from the PAPER BARK TREE) comes in handy in three ways for Aboriginals.
On all occasions, the paper bark must be a rectangular strip. Fold two ends (if you were holding the rectangle horizontally, left and right) and tie them with the traditional Aboriginal string (now, these aren’t the best instructions so I’ll tell you: it should look a bit like a boat). The size may vary, depending on what you put in.
This is where you have a choice.

a) The Aboriginals often used them as shoes for when they walked across prickly grass.
b) Because of the danger of estuarine (saltwater) crocodiles, you couldn’t stay too long at the waters edge, scooping up water with your hands to drink. Instead, some Aboriginals used the paper bark ‘boat’ as a cup so that they could walk away from the water to drink.
c) This time, I’ll tell you a recipe. First you need a freshly caught fish, and I mean fresh as in caught five minutes ago. This is a recipe called Sweet and Sour Fish (barramundi recommended). Of course, the first step is to put the fish into the ‘boat’. On either side you can have: crushed green ants; and flowers from a hibiscus tree. Next, pack mud all around it and then dig up an underground oven to cook it in. Once it’s in, fill in the rest of the oven and cook for an hour or so. After that hour, re-dig it up and pry away the now dried mud. The ‘sweet’ (green ants) and ‘sour’ (hibiscus flowers) will have seeped into the fish. Bon Appetite!

It’s not only the actual bark that comes in handy with the PAPER BARK TREE.
When the flood level is coming down before the start of the Dry season, the tree drinks and drinks, soaking up as much water as it can.
So, we’re told, if you are lost in the bush, look for a PAPER BARK TREE. If there is one, and if it has a bulge, open up the bulge because then water will leak out! It may be a bit salty and disgusting, but as long as it is water, it’ll keep you hydrated.
Aboriginal Rule: “We Aboriginals have a rule. The rule is that if you drink from a PAPER BARK TREE, you plug it up. Because there might be somebody else who is lost, and if they find the tree and you’ve let all the water run out, they will perish. So after you drink, you plug up the hole.”

Georgie

Interesting book for travelling in the Kimberely

Review of new book Other Country for Allan and Unwin:

If you are travelling to the Kimberely you may find this book interesting....

Stephen Scourfield’s Other Country paints a story of two brothers surviving and growing up from a legacy of abuse. They escape their father’s daily violence but don’t escape the influence it continues to have them and their relationship.

The story is told with a strong Australian male voice that may initially grate on the reader. However, the raw sometimes punchy descriptions fit the gritty storyline that unfolds in the Australian outback. The author evocatively describes the cultural and environmental landscapes providing a rich level contemporary and historical information. The story’s credibility is founded on this realistic context. Readers familiar with outback Australia, especially the North West will recognize places and events.

As the story sweeps along, the reader grows increasingly familiar with the characters and expectant of a powerful conclusion that is comprehensively delivered.

This debut book from Stephen Scourfield is fresh, powerful and distinctive. My first reaction to the opening pages was this is too blokey for my interests but I was drawn into the storyline and images of the landscape. I’m currently traveling in North West Australia and was drawn to the familiarity of the area and lives of people here. I thoroughly recommend the book to readers who are looking for a distinctive Australian story.

Graeme

Crocodile Safety:

Stay away from the edge of the water
Be careful when retrieving boats
WARNING:

Saltwater crocodiles are known to inhabit this area

Freshwater Crocodiles

Freshwater crocodiles can be up to two metres long. Generally they don’t try harming you—unless you throw rocks or sticks or something at them; or just plain irritate them. As I’ve seen them, they love just floating in the water (but not upside-down—the upside-down ones, that you can only see the bellies of, are dead). They eat small fish, big fish—fish; with the occasional delicacy of us ... but really I don’t believe that is a delicacy.

Saltwater Crocodiles

Up to four times the freshies’ size, salties are more likely to find you tasty ... or delicious. Small fish aren’t an option. It’s a bit like overweight (shall we say) people going to McDonalds: they’ll always choose super size. To them, we’re probably entrees, just before the unlucky fish and wild hog stew and delicious pig dessert. No, really, they do eat all that, but only if you’ve come their way. If you were five hundred metres from them, they’ll just leave you alone and kill something invading its territory (say ... that cow drinking over there!! “Aah, a delicious cow. Hopefully not a bony one ...”). So take my advice when you are in the Northern Territory. Only swim if there’s no croc warning!!

Georgie