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Our
adventures in Australia
(14 posts, most recent listed first)
| Out
here, we is fluffy |
Location:
Above Austrailia
|
| November
5, 2000 - Kiran |
|
"Isn't
that wild? It's always sunny up here," Geoff is whispering
into my ear. We have our faces pressed against the double-paned
and slightly warped plane window as we descend through
the fantasy land of the clouds.
My parents began taking me with them on planes when
I was 2 years old. I imagine that then, like now, my
fingers were clutching the sill as I peered out and
dreamed up little creatures stumbling around. If I could
just get out there, I would feel the soft, fluff-ness
between my toes. And would I ever bounce and bounce
and bounce...
Some clouds are bigger than Everest, Geoff tells me.
We are flying in between two layers of thick, whipped,
white giants. Those below us have glowing sun silhouettes.
Never fails to take my breath away. We dip down and
away, back toward the earth and watch the barren, flat
land become rolling green hills. My eyes take in the
layout of the suburbs, then cars, laundry on a clothesline,
so close to the rooftops! We land in Adelaide.
|
The
concept of flight is teasing my sanity. I have been transported
to another continent without any physical effort and am
finding it hard to acknowledge that I am where I am. Major
Sumner, my aboriginal friend and host for our stay, greets
us with a huge smile and whisks us away into the Australia
sun.
Like that of many indigenous people, Major's cultural
history is somewhat vague. The European quest to conquer
all included a fierce attempt to wipe out all trace of
aboriginal tradition. As a result, their language, traditions,
art and history must be pieced together from stories told
by the few remaining elders, other clan groups and photos.
This is what Major has chosen to dedicate his life to.
His family members and friends join him to be Tal-Kin-Jeri,
a dance group which performs worldwide. Every year they
hold a coroboree, with performers from other clan groups
and cultures. This year, Geoff and I will be helping them.
We walk out to the parking lot. In mid-sentence I stop
to gawk at a little boy who has just parked his car! Reality
and common sense make its way to my consciousness and
I remember that the steering wheel is on the right in
Australia. Time to go to bed. |
 Only
enough time for a nap. Two hours later we are in the Hungarian
community center for a Fijian-Indian celebration of Diwali,
the festival of light. We sit with the local MP and the
presidents of the Fijian and Maori communities, and are
introduced as distinguished Canadian guests. This just
adds to the surreal nature of our jet-lagged reality.
Despite the haze in my head, I can appreciate how each
community is striving to keep their traditions alive.
Australia is now a place of many cultures, not just European
or Aboriginal, and Major is determined to join hands with
all of them. When the Indian disco music begins, we say
good night. |
| Adventures
in Adelaide |
Location:
Adelaide, Australia
|
| November
6, 2000 - Geoff |
|
Today
was an errand day. We cashed traveler's cheques, bought
groceries and changed our flight so we'll be here for
the coroboree. I tried to get the compass in my head
calibrated as we walked, but it isn't easy here. In
Vancouver the mountains are north and the ocean is west,
no problem. Adelaide is flat and the only landmark I
could spot was a cellular tower quickly obscured by
other buildings. We walked for hours and I used the
first of my year's supply of blister pads. It felt so
good to walk in the sun. There were Christmas carols
jingling from store speakers. They seemed way out of
place in the heat but I guess it's me not the carols.
|
 Yesterday
we watched Tal-Kin-Jeri dance. It was my first time. They
were performing at a Greek cultural festival and the smell
of souvlaki and spanakopita was everywhere. In a locker
room below concrete bleachers the family painted each
other while laughing and teasing. They were transformed
with ochre red, bone white and a few emu feathers. When
they performed the audience was enthralled. So much sound
came from simple instruments: three boomerangs, a hollow
stick and their voices. The hollow stick is the yidaki
(didjeridoo). I thought I could play it until yesterday.
Now I know what it's supposed to sound like. They danced
to honour the animal spirits: emu, kangaroo, seagull and
kite hawk. When Major dances you can almost see his wings.
It was nice to feel like we were behind the scenes a little
even if all we did was take pictures and carry their spears
to the car. At the end of the day we split with smiles
and a warning from the whole family: Kiran and I can't
leave Australia without dancing with them. I hope I look
good in body paint and a loincloth. |
| To
Camp Coorong |
Location:
near Meningie,
South Austrailia
|
| November
8, 2000 - Kiran |
|
In the evening I joined Uncle Moogy's daughter, Charlotte,
for an hour of tai-bo and then caught the tail end of
the Tal-Kin-Jeri (means 'bush turkey' in Ngarrindjeri)
dance rehearsal- my first time at both. I learned (tried)
the women's steps, kind of a forward-and-up swoosh and
then stamp down with one foot, repeated with the other
foot. Each swoosh-and-stamp has to happen within one
beat. By the end of the rehearsal I was just beginning
to get it. We practiced the emu dance, seagull, and
kite hawk. The kangaroo dance is only performed by the
male dancers. The women stand to the back, striking
their clapping sticks to the beat of the yidaki (didgeridoo)
as the men bounce around the room, scratching themselves
and sniffing at things. We also practiced the pelican
dance, a familiar and special animal for the Ngarrindjeri
people. We acted out a fishing scene: the women in a
line at the back, thrashing the 'water' with our hands
to herd the fish in between the men and us. The men
danced forward and then turned around. This was our
cue to throw out the net, over our heads and into the
water. The men performed the "shake-a-leg," their legs
stirring up the water to coerce the fish towards the
net. They moved forward, toward us, to get the fish
in the net as we pulled it in. Then we all became the
spirit of the pelican, swooping down to catch fish from
the net in our beaks. Through dance I am learning so
much about how Ngarrindjeri people worked together to
hunt and catch their food and the different roles men
and women played, equally important. It is one thing
to read or be told about aboriginal culture; learning
the traditional dances and language adds so much more
depth. I feel it.
After
the rehearsal, Geoff and I got a ride from Uncle Moogy
to Camp Coorong, an Aboriginal culture and education
centre, also on Ngarrindjeri land. Camp Coorong is to
be the site of this year's Ngrilkulun ("corroboree,"
or cultural gathering). Geoff and I will do some volunteer
work for the ngrilkulun and perhaps have a traditional
Ngarrindjeri marriage there. The drive was two hours
long, filled with stories of Ngarrindjeri culture. Uncle
Moogy told us that females and males at puberty used
to go through intensive initiations in order to become
adults. The process could take up to two months, depending
on how quickly the young adults could grasp what they
were being taught. Ngarrindjeri law is quite strict;
if a rule is broken, the Elders will administer a serious
punishment, as the damage affects not only the individual,
but the entire community. For instance, interfering
with an uninitiated woman, or murdering someone, could
result in being speared through the leg or banished
from the community. Because the punishment and shame
associated with it is so harsh, prison would be a welcome
alternative to having to face Ngarrindjeri law.
|
 We
were told in depth about the Stolen Generation (late 1800s
all the way to the 1960s), when the European missionaries
were taking over the land and forcing the "savages" to
become Christian (for their own good). The Aboriginal
people were forbidden to speak their own language, practice
their ceremonies, make art or tools, basically destroying
their culture, and were sent to camps to become 'civilized.'
The only alternative was to live in fringe dwellings,
outside of the towns in small wurleys (similar to yerts)
made from whatever materials they could find. Many Aboriginal
people were killed, or died from introduced disease. The
most common death, though, was due to absolute despair.
The Europeans assumed that all Aboriginal people would
eventually die out. When this didn't happen, there was
a directive to assimilate the Aboriginal people into the
European population. Uncle Moogy's fringe dwelling was
often visited by "Welfare," taking away the blond and
fair children to give them a 'civilized' life. In his
camp, the elders would hear of Welfare's impending visit
from a nearby camp, and signal the children to hide out
in the bush. We watched a tv show, "The Stolen Generation,"
which stated that taking the fair-skinned babies away
relieved the government of the embarrassment of admitting
their people had had relations with Aboriginal women.
They showed scientists with their charts: 1/2 Aboriginal
+ 1 full white = 1/8 Aboriginal, or some such calculations.
In the camps, mothers would try to stain their childrens'
skin and hair with ash or dirt to make them look more
black.
How did the Europeans earn the trust of the Aboriginal
people, to take away their land and culture, and inundate
their communities with Christianity? One possible explanation:
when the first Europeans arrived, it was as if the Aboriginal
ancestors had come back to visit them. During a funeral,
the Aboriginal tradition is to remove the skin of the
deceased and place the body on a platform over a ritual
fire, drying it out. The preserved bones were carried
in wicker coffins by relatives and kept with them for
years sometimes, until mourning was over. When the skin
was removed and the body dried, it became a greyish-white
color, similar to the color of the European people. There
was a feeling of desperation throughout the Aboriginal
land… what could they have done that would cause their
ancestors to be so angry and treat them so badly?
We arrived around 10:00 pm at our destination and were
introduced to the people who run Camp Coorong, Tom and
Ellen Trevorrow. They were very warm and welcoming, and
invited us to stay in one of their cabins while we do
volunteer work for the Ngrilkulun. Uncle Moogy hopped
back in his car (after a long day of work, dance practice
and a 2-hour drive). I wonder what he eats for breakfast
that gives him so much energy! |
| Learning
a trade |
Location:
near Meningie,
South Australia
|
| November
9, 2000 - Kiran |
|
 During
the day we took a look around. Camp Coorong is situated
by the Kurangk (Coorong) River, in the southeastern
part of South Australia. Yellow sand dotted with brush
and ti trees cover the flat land, and big sky envelops
it all. There are strips of land that look like the
bottom of the ocean left behind after the water evaporated;
hard-packed, white ground sprouting seaweed-like plants.
|
The
cows look odd in this kind of landscape. It is because
of the introduced cattle that there is such a glut of
flies. Swarms of them, diving at me in waves, trying to
infiltrate my tear ducts and mouth. Blecch! Doesn't help
to know that they've just come over from the moist cow
paddies. Flies aside, it's hot and sunny and as I think
of cold, rainy, snowy Canada, I burst into a big smile
(mouth closed). |
Tonight
Ellen came over with big handfuls of freshly-picked reeds
in her hands. She plopped down in a chair. "Want to do
some weaving?" Of course I did. She assured Geoff that
it was 'men's business' too. We started our little baskets,
looping under, over and through. Geoff worked on his until
midnight.
The moon is so huge and bright in the big sky. Our bodies
cast long shadows on the ground, as if the sun was shining.
|
| Geoff's
business... |
Location:
near Meningie,
South Australia
|
| November
10, 2000 - Kiran |
| At
the Camp |
Location:
near Meningie,
South Australia
|
| November
18, 2000 - Kiran |
|
We've
been working for about one-and-a-half weeks to get the
Ngrilkulun off the ground. We've designed a poster,
a program and a website, assisted in fundraising, communication,
scheduling, etc. It's been hard work, even more so for
Uncle Tom, who has to oversee everything and
take care of the Camp's faulty sewage system and
fight to maintain a ferry service to a sacred
island for his people.
The island is a traditional place for women's business.
Initiations, fertility rites and other private ceremonies,
just for women, were held there. Throughout Australia,
there are many such sites for the Aboriginal people.
Their importance has often been ignored with the construction
of highways, railways and buildings on and through them.
For ten years Ngarrindjeri people have been trying to
stop the construction of a bridge from the mainland
to Hindmarsh Island. However, the bridge was built this
year and is scheduled to open in a month. Because a
bridge potentially means further development on the
island, Uncle Tom wants to preserve the existing ferry
service to maintain an alternative for Aboriginal and
non-aboriginal people who wish to respect Hindmarsh
Island.
|
I
have a lot of respect for people like Uncle Tom and Uncle
Moogy. They work very hard to regain what their people
lost during the Stolen Generation. Their work is never
without resistance, often from Ngarrindjeri people with
a different agenda. They have led very tough lives but
have recovered and beam with optimism.
FYI: When the British first arrived in Australia, they
declared the land as Terra Nullius, a 'land belonging
to nobody,' even though it is estimated that there were
around a million people living on the island. The disposession
of the Aboriginal people, land laws and attitudes over
the last 200 years have constantly been justified by Terra
Nullius.
It wasn't until 1992 that the concept of Terra Nullius
was overturned by the Australian Supreme Court. |
Since
most of the groundwork has been set for the Ngrilkulun
(it's been called Ngarrindjeri Ngrilkulun 2000, Kurangk
Ruwe, "Ngarrindjeri Cultural Gathering 2000, Coorong
Land"), Geoff and I have decided to take a week off
to see a little more of Australia, hopefully meeting the
local Aboriginal people. We'll rent a car (maybe a 4WD,
if we can justify the $$) from Adelaide on Monday and
go through the Flinders Ranges to Coober Pedy (underground
dwellings) and Uluru ("Ayers Rock").
By the way, Geoff has completed a beautiful little basket.
Mine is still in the works... |
| Adelaide
Y-Haych-A (YHA) |
Location:
Adelaide,
South Australia
|
| November
19, 2000 - Geoff |
|
This hostel is full of spirits. Room 2 is the talking
room. No one sleeps there without hearing at least one
sleep-talker, mumbler or moaner. You can hear people
speaking the cryptic sentences of dreams in 5 different
languages. Kiran even joined in with a clear and insightful
"You have to look deeper..." at 3 AM. Room 4 is the
vision room. I dreamt of floating on a raft down a river
between looming grey cliffs. We were heading to begin
our lives at a lofty Himalayan monastery. I spent most
of the dream questioning the monks as to what they'd
given up to be there. I could feel the coarse robe wearing
thin on the sharp rocks and a feeling of loss which
I attribute to having to cut my hair. It was a vivid
dream.
|
Kiran's
dream was vivid too and more relevant. It's been an anxious
time as we get closer entwined in the politics surrounding
the Ngarrindjeri community, and our hopes of having a
firestick wedding seem up in the air. Kiran woke up with
a feeling that it would be wrong to push for a ceremony.
The spirits spoke through her. We may have to listen to
them. We leave in the morning for the Flinder's Ranges
about 6 hours from Adelaide. This is our chance to be
tourists and clear our heads a little. It will be an adventure.
It's time for me to crawl into the lower bunk in the dark.
I have to be quiet because there's a German couple in
there who've been sleeping since 8:30. A sure sign of
jet lag. |
| The
bigger picture |
Location:
Adelaide to Wilpena Pound,
Flinders Ranges, South Australia
|
| November
20, 2000 - Kiran |
|
Last
night I had a disturbing dream. It was the night of
our marriage ceremony at the Ngrilkulun. Uncle Tom and
I were walking towards our ceremonial fire in the middle
of a big field, relatives behind us, while Geoff's family
walked towards us in the same formation. We arrived
at the fire, silent. Suddenly I felt woozy, disoriented.
My vision blurred and I was unsteady on my feet. I felt
a presence moving from deep inside up towards my head.
My head snapped out of its foggy state but was overtaken
by someone else. I was an old woman. My mouth began
yelling in Ngarrindjeri, angry words, to the crowd.
The anger subsided and the woman turned to Uncle Tom,
still standing next to me.
|
She
caressed his cheek and said (this time I understood),
"I am proud of what you are doing, son." Uncle
Tom's mother died some time ago.
I have never had such a strong dream before. There has
been a lot of ambiguity around the possibility of our
marriage at the Ngrilkulun. Such ceremonies were traditionally
conducted by initiated elders, and there is no Ngarrindjeri
man or woman in this generation who has been initiated.
I've been stubbornly unwilling to accept that the ceremony
might not take place. Although I'm still finding it hard
to let go, this dream has shaken my conscience to take
in the bigger picture. The disappointment weighs heavy
but a new day has arrived and with it, a new adventure. |
We
eat a wholesome and gas-inducing breakfast of grilled
tomatoes ("tomaah-toes") and baked beans on
toast, and head to the car rental place. A four-wheel
drive is out of the question. We get a small Japanese
sedan instead and start our long drive up into the Flinders
Ranges.
Eight hours later, we stop to camp just outside of Wilpena
Pound, in the southern Ranges. We lie in our tent, listening
to the soft thuds on all sides of us. The grasshoppers
are checking us out. |
|
Being drawn |
Location:
Flinders Ranges,
South Australia
|
| November
21, 2000 - Kiran |
|
We get to Wilpena Pound in the morning and decide to
go into the visitor center to plan our route.
We learn of the area's Dreaming Story. At an initiation
ceremony, two huge serpents encircled the fire and people.
They created a whirlwind and joined head to tail, eating
all of the attendees. The serpents became the walls
of the crater now known as Wilpena Pound. Such legends
were passed down by the Aboriginal people for one of
three purposes: to teach morals, rules of survival in
the bush, or to explain the creation of geographical
formations and animals living in an area.
The woman at the visitor center told us of hikes, gorges,
tea stops and other places on various routes and a small
Aboriginal community that sometimes told Dreaming Stories
around a fire. I was intrigued. Geoff wasn't sure. It
was out of the way and our little car might not be able
to survive the unsealed roads- the last thing we need
is a flat 'tyre' in the 40 degree heat. We headed first
to a gorge, an hour away.
|
Kite hawks, stubby crocodile-like lizards, wedge-tailed
eagles, emus, kangaroos, pink-and-white cockatoos, crows,
magpies, willie wagtails... WOW! We drive in awe
through the hills, craters, rock formations and ruins.
During our drive we were still deciding on a route. Geoff
and I almost got into an argument because I was being
so stubborn about going to the Aboriginal community. We
made our way up, over unsealed roads with ditches across
them filled with water and sharp stones all around (me:
crossing my fingers the whole way through). We made it
to the final turnoff and drove the 11 km suggested by
the map. Sixteen, seventeen passed and we were really
starting to wonder if we had taken a wrong turn. There
were no signs to give us direction, just barren hills
with the occasional crow and emu, and the sun was making
its way down into the horizon. Another minute passed and
we finally saw it- "Iga Warta Community," a
beautiful sign. We had arrived. |
| Home
of the native orange |
Location:
Iga Warta Community,
Flinders Ranges, South Australia
|
| November
21, 2000 - Geoff |
|
As usual a lifetime has passed in a few short days.
We arrived at this small Aboriginal community just in
time to set up our tent and cook up some Thai curry
on the camp stove before sunset. Kiran was driven to
get here as soon as she heard about it. Iga Warta means
'home of the native orange' in Adnyamathana language.
They are the people of the Flinders Ranges.
|
This
place isn't on many maps. Our little rental car bounced
heavily over the kilometers of unsealed roads and creek
crossings. It was worth it. This place is magical. We
dodged emu and wallaroos (smaller, rock dwelling kangaroos)
as dusk approached. The cliffs are red and glow at sunset.
Just before we left Camp Coorong, Uncle Tom told us to
say hello to Cliff Coulthard when we get into the Flinders.
We asked for his address or phone number but these details
didn't seem important. Tom said 'Just ask around,' referring
to a barren expanse of land as big as Holland. |
After
our meal, we joined our hosts around the campfire for
singing and to hear some of the dreaming stories of their
ancestors. After the stories, one of our hosts introduced
himself as Cliff Coulthard. Destiny we figure. Now Terry,
Cliff's brother, is looking into us meeting the local
elders to discuss marrying here. Our dream is coming together. |
| Our
Adnyani, Granny Gertie |
Location:
Iga Warta,
South Australia
|
| November
23, 2000 - Geoff |
|
Cliff
is here on a veranda carving into an emu egg as big
as a nerf football. The egg has many layers and he scrapes
down to get the colour he wants. On each egg he carves
the emu first to pay respect. His father taught him
that. He tells us that the dust of the egg is an aphrodisiac.
Just by sitting by him carving we are vulnerable to
its powers. Unfortunately we must restrain ourselves
until after the firestick has been given to us to seal
our marriage.
We drove to Nepabunna community to meet Granny Gertie
yesterday. It's the site of the mission where most of
the Adnyamathana people where herded by the European
settlers and forced to abandon their ancient ways.
|
Granny Gertie is the eldest and related to most of the
community by blood or by 'moiety'. Moiety is a blood group
passed on by the mother's line. They are Araroo and Muthari
or North and South wind. One can only marry someone of
the opposite moiety. She is one of the only remaining
Adnyamathana who has witnessed the firestick wedding although
she was forced to have a Christian ceremony when she wed.
What a beautiful lady. She explained the concept of the
moiety lines and was exited when we expressed our desire
to marry on their land by the old ways. She surprised
us by saying in her scratchy laughing voice "You want
marry in the Flinders? You want marry firestick way? I
could marry you if you ah willing." We are very willing.
|
Now
we sit in the shade of the veranda somewhat stunned. We
are so overwhelmed by the welcome we have received here.
Terry Coulthard explained that he's always wanted another
sister and that he felt a bond with Kiran right away.
We've been adopted!! Kiran will be South Wind and I will
be North Wind. Terry, Cliff and the other 3 brothers who
help run this cultural center, become Kiran's nungas (blood
brothers) and my winjas (brothers through marriage).
Terry has spent a long time this morning explaining how
the moiety grouping gives order to the community. Children
are loved and nurtured by their parents but disciplined
by their uncles. Their uncle is any man of their father's
generation and moiety. |
Terry
wants us to understand how the community helps each other
raise their children. He speaks with a small stutter and
each sentence is spoken in earnest. He wants us to realize
we have family here now and with that comes responsibility
to teach our children of their Adnyamathana family and
homeland. It is such an honour and we can't absorb it
all.
Tonight is the big night. Three of the elders will perform
the ceremony. Uncle Ron (Gertie's nephew, 69 years old)
is Kiran's Ngamuna (elder uncle) and will give us the
firestick. It is his role to explain my duties as a husband.
Granny will speak to Kiran as my Adyani. Auntie Gladys
will be Kiran's adopted mother. I'm wishing away the clouds
that are building. The ceremony starts at sunset. |
| Wedding
by fire |
Location:
Near Meningie,
South Australia
|
| November
24, 2000 - Geoff |
|
 I'm
a married man! The bond of the firestick has joined
us for better or for worse. We sat on the ground encircled
by branches and flowers. Our new family told us the
way to behave to each other and Ngamuna dropped the
firestick between us. Granny Gertie and Aunty Gladys
sung songs to welcome our spirits back home from their
lost wanderings. The clouds gave way to a beautiful
sunset with lightning dancing behind the hills.
After the songs were finished, a platter made of bark
was placed in front of each of us in the circle. On
the top of one was damper, bread baked under
the ashes of the fire. The other had a charred leg of
the kangaroo they hunted for us yesterday. We've made
a jump from a vegetarian diet to gnawing on sinew with
our hands. Really it was an honour.
|
We celebrated with the children dancing circles around
us. We ended the night giggling on a trampoline joined
by the camp manager, Brownie the dog. The only dog I've
ever met who wants to have his belly scratched while bouncing
on a trampoline.
I'll never forget this place. We've already decided to
give our future children Adnyamathana names and bring
them here someday. I keep looking around at my new homeland.
It's ancient and beautiful. We've decided to stay here
for the remainder of 'vacation time' and skip Uluru (Ayers
Rock). We want to learn as much from our new family as
we can before heading back for the cultural gathering
at Camp Coorong.
Read more about our Adnyamathanha
wedding ceremony. |
| Petrol,
roos & rain |
Location:
Flinder's Ranges to
Eyre Peninsula, Australia
|
| November
29, 2000 - Geoff |
|
We
left Iga Warta but it wasn't easy. I felt like I could
stay for years just wandering the rocky hills and learning
the stories of the Adnyamathana ancestors. We left after
paying a last visit to Granny Gertie, Auntie Gladys
and Uncle Ron. We put our little rental car through
2 more hours of gruelling gravel. This time we weren't
so lucky. Less than 200 metres from the start of the
sealed road our tire blew. With a good spare tire, spare
fuel and spare water we weren't too worried but 41 degrees
is too hot for pit stops. We changed the tire in record
time to get out of the heat. We were pretty pleased
with ourselves and the feeling of being prepared for
what could have been disaster is almost worth the $100
new tire.
We stopped in Port Augusta to visit Terry's mother who
wanted to meet her new relations. Vincent Coulthard,
Kiran's new brother, stopped by and Kiran asked him
to sketch out the family tree. It took more than an
hour. It turns out we've been adopted by a huge family.
|
After
leaving 'Port' we headed west to a beachside town on the
Eyre Peninsula. Town is a bit of an overstatement: a bottle
shop, a few houses and a caravan park clumped together
by the sea on Venus Bay. It was as beautiful as it's name.
It was blasting hot, with a north wind blowing of the
dry land. It was like standing by the sea holding a giant
hairdryer in your face. We played in some tidal pools
and ran out of gas on a dusty red road. We'd planned to
start using our jerry can supply as it was near the end
of our trip anyway. As I opened the heavy green jerry
can, heat-expanded petrol sprayed all over me. It doesn't
make the best sunscreen. The lack of ozone down under
and the deceptive wind add up to crispy skin fast. We
saw a colony of sea lions lounging and Kiran screamed
quite effectively when she found a bright yellow grasshopper,
the size of a parakeet, had hitchhiked onto her lap. We
let it off at the next stop (right away). We went to sleep
under the stars with the fly of the tent completely off
to get some breeze. We woke up to 3 centimetres of rain
in the tent and a tropical thunderstorm all around. Fortunately
there were no lights to see us shivering naked as we threw
all we could into the car. |
We decided to make the best of it and drove to Murphy's
Haystacks to catch the sunset. The Haystacks are big finger
like red rocks jutting out of a field nearby. We drove
half the speed limit to avoid rabbits and kangaroos. The
roos we dodged here were the plains-roaming kangaroos
as apposed to the hill dwelling euros we saw in the Flinders.
We were also low on fuel and prayed for good mileage.
We slept for 2 hours at the Haystacks before sunrise broke
and the storm clouds moved on. We made it back to Venus
Bay and found the caravan park owner ready to send out
a search party. She had seen us drive of into the dunes
in the sweltering heat the day before and had seen no
trace of us except an abandoned tent this morning. We
assured her that our adventures had been more embarrassment
than emergency. Now it's back to Camp Coorong to prepare
for the Ngrilkulun. Not before one dance rehearsal I guess.
We don't get off this continent without dancing with Tal
Kin Jeri. |
| Sad
to say we must be on our way... |
Location:
Adelaide Airport,
South Austrailia
|
| December
4, 2000 - Geoff |
|
 We
danced. We rubbed noses with Maori warriors and kissed
Cook Island dancers wearing grass skirts and coconut
shells. The Ngarindjeri Ngirlkulun was amazing and worth
all the headaches. We got painted up and performed on
the sand stage behind blazing fires and smoking gum
leaves. At first we were nervous but the animal spirits
took over and we were hooting and hissing and stamping
with passion. Our time in Australia with our Aboriginal
hosts has been intense and overwhelming. Our hearts
burdened daily by first-hand stories of persecution
and genocide and then filled with the warm welcome and
love we've been given.
|
Uncle
Moogy pulled another marathon driving stint to get us
plus gear home in a mere 2 four-hour trips. Just before
driving us to the airport today he surprised me by giving
me a beautiful yidaki. Again I was speechless. I'd given
up on finding one with some meaning for me. I didn't want
to just buy one from a shop. I wanted to know the maker
or player or just have some connection to the instrument.
It is unique and natural,
leaving me space to burn or carve the story of our journey
along its length. We're off to Tokyo now and I imagine
it will be a bit of a shock. We're leaving part of our
home behind in South Australia. |
Next...
to Japan
|
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Look
for this symbol on our Marriage pages for a short, 3-D, live experience!
