Sky clears and sun glows

We are in limbo. The sky is clouding over to grey; if it rains the ceremony is off. I am a bit anxious because I've been looking forward to this so much, but if we miss today, all of our adopted family will be out of town for the weekend, and we are due back at Camp Coorong to help with the setup of the Ngrilkulun (cultural gathering) early next week.

Yesterday evening we were visited by Granny Gertie (Adnyamathanha elder) and her nephew and niece, Ron and Gladys. They were trying to come to a decision about which of us will belong to the north wind family and which will belong to the south. Geoff and I each had to be adopted by one of the families in order to become married, and in order to be married by the two eldest Adnyamathanha people, we had to figure out which of us was whose relation. I loved being there, watching the animated conversation. Eventually, they nodded together and shared their conclusion: I will be Mathari (south wind) and Geoff will be Ararru (north wind). It feels right. The five brothers that run the Iga Warta community have now adopted me as their sister. In the Adnyamathanha way, you marry not only your husband, but also your husband's brothers. My husband marries my sisters.

There has been no divorce in Adnyamathana recorded history, mostly due to the fact that if a spouse is on walkabout or taking part in an initiation, the other will not be alone, and their children have a community of fathers and mothers that care for them. Because I have been adopted into an Adnyamathana family, and into their system means I have a second husband, Michael, and Geoff has numerous wives. Ron becomes my uncle and Gladys my mother. She smiles shyly as I give her a hug.

The ceremony is to be held outside. It is called Ardla Wirdni, or firestick, marriage. It is also a kangaroo wedding, after the animal this community identifies with. What do we wear? Traditionally, we would be naked except for a sliver or two of kangaroo skin. Lucky for us this has been decided against by our hosts, to spare our asses from freezing when the sun goes down. It's hot during the day- around 40 degrees- but when the sun sets there is an evident absence of heat.

Traditional Adnyamathanha marriage ceremonies were held at night for the firestick to be the center of focus. It is 6:45 pm and the sun will set in about an hour and a half. Our ceremony is scheduled for 8:00 pm.

Geoff and I are in our tent, discussing what our options are if the ceremony doesn't work out. Time ticks by slowly. From outside the tent, we hear a yell: the sky has cleared! We peek out and smile the biggest smiles. Not only have the clouds cleared, the sky is now a mystical pink-red. It's sunset in the big sky. Good time for a wedding.

Suddenly there isn't enough time. We're throwing on the best clothes we have in our backpacks. The Iga Warta children are running around, playing and yelling and the grey-cloud mood is lifted. Geoff is taken to his 'camp,' where I am soon to be brought by my uncle. Am I nervous? Kind of... I've been told that the ceremony would be simple, but it's a first time for all of us. It's been forty years since the last Adnyamathanha marriage in this area, a cause for great celebration, and an honor for Geoff and I. My wish is that this sparks interest in the kids to bring these kinds of ceremonies back into their everyday lives.

So I'm off. Uncle Ron comes to get me and leads me to the groom's camp, where a large fire has been prepared. The red sunlight is suddenly mixed with sparks- whispers of lightning are blessing the event. Geoff is sitting cross-legged inside a circle of branches and flowers. I sit on his right, the south side, as my family is mathari (south wind). We sit on the ground to be closest to the earth. Uncle Ron lights the firestick, a branch about a foot long. The ceremony begins.

We are told in turn by Uncle Ron and Granny Gertie about our duties to each other and the serious nature of such a union. A marriage is forever. If we ever wish to separate, we must return to this spot and throw away two firesticks in opposite directions, and we are not to see each other again. The firestick is placed in the circle in front of us. We are officially married!

Granny Gertie and my mother, Gladys, stand behind us and sing an Adnyamathanha song as we remain sitting on the ground. The song moves me to tears. I later learn from my brother Terry that it was a special song, welcoming lost souls back home.

Terry then leads everyone to sing a less serious number. We clap along, and continue clapping until all the children- and dogs- of the Iga Warta community are dancing around our circle. Someone mentioned later that the strong presence and participation of children in our ceremony was symbolic of many happy children in our future. I like that thought.

Bark platters, one with damper & quandong jam, the other kangaroo, are handed to us. Apologies are made due to us being vegetarian. We answer that it would be an honor. I think of how happy my Dad would be to see me gnawing on a kangaroo leg after repeated attempts over the years to get me to eat meat. We stand up and out of the circle to share our food with the others. The sun is down, the feeling new, the fire bright.


To read about our 2nd wedding ceremony, click here.