Sunday 25^th August 2024 – Arafura swamp

An old bay stallion was cropping the short green grass alongside our tent when I awoke. He raised his head and strode swiftly away towards the swamp as we walked up the path to breakfast.

Afterwards, we were divided into groups. We headed along the jetty and boarded a boat for a delightful meander on the Arafura Swamp with traditional guide Graham and his translator.

Water buffalo, many freshwater crocodiles; fish popping bubbles up the still surface. Dozens of darters airing their wings, black kites, sea eagles, a king fisher, cattle egrets much larger than the African variety; flocks of whistling ducks; the jacana – or Jesus bird – with its red crest, walking on the water. A blissful three hours with constant references to the film, “Ten Canoes.”

There was a tall palm-like tree on the left, going through the death throes. The one on the right was dead; in the middle, yet another in its full prime. The crocodiles were ubiquitous.

After a cold lunch, we headed into the bush. It was approaching 40 degrees. We topped up our water bottles with hydrolytes and were told that the drive would be shortened. We wet towels to drape round our necks while bouncing along in open-backed vehicles.

While driving from one shady spot to another, Graham’s brother Franky entertained us with enthusiastic renderings of Aboriginal stories and traditional endings, to which we were prompted to respond “lemonaay!” – well, that’s what it sounded like. He demonstrated how to extract edible substance from green ants. A few of us tasted the tang on their tongues, but I desisted.

We learned about separating fronds from long leaves for basket-making. We saw a hard wood tree, which reminded me of ebony, and yet another type of eucalyptus, from which to make pipes.

Finally, with the swamp spreading out below us in full circle round a hilltop, Franky demonstrated the art of skin painting on the arm of Mav, the youngest member of our tour group.

That evening my dinner neighbours were Ian, Mav, John and Don who were keen to hear more about my books. Laurie – the man in the red shirt – must have told them.

I stopped my story after a short explanation of the Kenya Mau Mau rebellion which had led to Independence. Then it was Ian’s turn. He has worked for Outback Spirit for seven years. Passionate about the land, he gave his own take on how and why the Aboriginal people tell their stories. The traditional man owns his “country”. Any person or animal who happens to come onto that country belongs to him. Hence clashes with colonialists who accused the Aboriginals of stealing their stock. He finds wives from neighbouring clans, and they belong to him. The sons stay with their fathers. The wives eventually go back to their own country or to another clan. It’s a man’s world.

In a picture book in the lodge, the women are depicted as the gentle warming supporting sun. The men are not so nice – argumentative – and likened to the moon seen through the trees. I suppose I’ll have to research how they have changed through to present times.

Monday 26^th August 2024

A shorter safari to Ramingining, the corrugated roads and dust clouds reminding me of old Kenya days. We stopped at Bula Bula Arts where I noticed Laurie holding a Plain English translation of the Bible “for Indigenous Australians that grew up talking their own language, and then later they learned to talk English.” The text is simple, idiomatic, and interspersed with homely sketches. I immediately bought one, vaguely thinkiong it might help me better understand them. Andrew Wanimilil Malibirr, who designed the intricate artwork for the cover, proudly stepped up for a photo.

Barramundi Lodge with its front deck overlooking the wilderness, was acquired by Outback Spirit in 2015, and dinner was the tastiest barramundi I’ve ever eaten.

I sat next to Aiden, who told me his story. He’s 28 years old and got his pilot’s licence before a driving licence; he loves operating machinery, but hates doing the maintenance. After trying heavy duty machines in construction, being a truck driver (his favourite job so far) and numerous other jobs, he’s now with Outback Spirit but he does not want to stay with them. Shorter journeys and the ability to live nearer home is his aim. He is registered with an agency and has excellent practical credentials. His biggest mistake, he told me, was turning down an offer from the Airforce which would have paid the cost of him becoming an officer – because of a girl he did not want to lose. She ended up walking out on him. He enjoys his life and work and is in no hurry to settle into permanency. A personable young man possessing a surprising range of knowledge.

Tuesday 27^th August

An early start for a long morning in Maningrida. First to the Djomi Museum where we were guided round its exhibits, then to the Cultural Centre and a fascinating demonstration of basket weaving by an Aboriginal elder in excellent English and with happy humour.

We were running late, so had a sandwich lunch on board our Ocean Master vessel on the Liverpool and Tomkinson Rivers. A vast area of mangroves, islands and inlets. Nobody caught any fish, but we glimpsed some birds: rainbow bee-eaters, a sandpiper, two eastern curlews, and about 30-50 brolgas in the distance, disturbed by a helicopter and rising in dramatic skeins over the swamp.

For thirty minutes we bumped and surfed through the choppy waves, the boat shouting its objection at the battering. We clung to the rails and suffered stoically. A thorough shaking. But we arrived back safe and sound to a delicious cream tea at Barramundi Lodge and a brief respite before the familiar sundowner (Pinot again for me) and dinner. Lamb, this time.

Janice shared her story. She has a doctorate in Aboriginal studies, and qualification in design. She explained to me that the lost children tragedy happened in all States of Australia. She was disappointed that the Voice was rejected in the referendum, but her people weren’t informed enough about its importance. However, we agreed that full recognition and acceptance is bound to happen in time.