It's Sunday afternoon and rain drops are falling like pellets on my corrugated iron roof. I head outside to make sure the car windows are up.
Traditional owners have travelled from across the lands for "Rent and Gate Money Story". This is where a percentage of park entry fees etc are divided and shared among TO's. It happens every year in November. And, every white fella within yards of the joint knows this and gets ready. They're like cats, preying on a small bird, waiting to pounce! And then, thump! That little bird is screwed! See, when this mob receives their money, they all head out to buy new cars. Used cars. From them white fullas. Rubbish cars. For exorbitant prices. Thousands of dollars are spent on 20 year old Commodores, that aren't worth more than $1000.00. Our mob is ripped off to buggery and the entire process is totally unjust.
Cars are then driven to their destinations, to the point that they are beyond bush mechanic rectification. Had the vehicle been more reliable, they would have had a chance.
Uluru attracts all sorts of folk, many in search of something that is missing from their lives. If only they knew, that if they looked within themselves they might just find it.
Narcissistic so called hippies and flower people, light as feathers and totally unconsious, in search of learning traditional ways, of becoming 'healers'. In search of filling a void they couldn't find in Byron Bay or Nimbin. Yes, I'm a cynic! But a well rounded one!
Of course, there are some extraordinary indigenous and non-indigenous folk who come out with heart felt intentions. With the committment to make a difference and bridge the gap. Absolutely. And, these people should be acknowledged.
Do gooders, spiritualists, hippies, healers; they think this land is the Holy Grail. You need not me, nor anyone else to explain the significance or sacredness of this place. Of any place. All of Mother Earth is sacred. However, here, in the 'spiritual heart of Australia",exists a certain dysfuntion. And, I see it too often. I watch as they swarm to my grandmothers, like bees to honey. Blow ins. They're here for a short time to hunt and gather knowledge, and they then flee, many of them then considering themselves to be gurus and messengers - bearers of indigenous culture that doesn't belong to them.
So, how do we eradicate this exploitation of our ancestors? Of the custodians of this land? In this so called "Lucky Country"?
There's a term we use out here. Frequently. "Ngapartji ngapartji". Meaning, I give you something, you give me something. It's about exchange. It's about generosity and acknowledgment.
What can we all give back to this mob who have such profound generosity and share such a depth of wisdom.
And, more importantly, what can we learn?
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Friday, November 5, 2010
Black Fulla's - The Inferior Race?!?!
The temperature in Central Australia has risen. Quite quickly. Flies are swarming, camp dogs are gestating left, right and centre. Crows are in full force as new hatchlings flee their nest for their first flight. The motifs of snake and goanna tracks cover the sandy desert floor and children, in a community with no swimming pool, find other ways of cooling down. Some, in garbage bins filled with water, others, with inflatible swimming pools.
Recently, my attention has been drawn to generosity. Generosity - the black fulla way.
A few weeks ago a number of us were out at Lake Amadeus with Traditional Owners on a fauna survey; scientists, rangers, wildlife experts and a mob of old people. It was interesting watching this dynamic. Intersting because, I got to observe peoples different levels of sharing and generosity. Black fullas, white fullas. Sharing, in the context of food, water, knowledge, and, as individuals.
Barbara, a TO, humbled me with her generosity. She shared, without condition, traditional stories of that land, where water could be found, where sources of food could be located, where certain species of animals could be found. The knowledge and insight of this old woman was extraordinary. She hadn't been out to Lake Amadeus for over 30 years!
Scientists, with the knowledge Barbara had shared, went off quietly, unaccompanied, to 'check it out'. When they returned with their findings, they shared. Their sharing however, lacked generosity. It was in gobbledegook scientifc language and latin terminology. The average white fulla doesn't know what a carpius andronis is, let alone a mob of black fullas! They were stingy with their knowledge and what they had found and it irritated me!
Later that afternoon, Barbara caught a tinka. A small sand goanna. At night, we threw it into the hot coals and smoked it. Tinka is a white meat. Soft, a little greasy and is very sweet. And, delicious. When it was cooked, Barbara shared it with all of those white fulla scientists. She talked about where to find tinka, how to track it to it's burrow, how it is caught and killed. She explained this in plain english so that they could all understand. She withheld nothing. Barbara, like most Anangu (indigenous people from APY Lands) loves tinka. But she was happy to share it, without keeping any for herself or her family. She was generous. Unconditionally.
Only yesterday, I was at loggerheads with a colleague. An artist had called in to drop off some paintings. A senior woman. While she was waiting, she asked my colleague if she could have a glass of cold water. "There's the tap" he told her. "Wiya" she said. "Kapi kura" (No, that water is bad)
And, the water out of this particular tap is bad. It is only used for washing up. This tap is connected to a tank at the back of the art centre. The water runs through filthy gutters, and sits under a pepper tree. These berries fall into the tank and are poisonous. And recently, the tank was filled with the fire hose. Bottom line, water in this tank is not fit for human consumption!
"We haven't got any other water" my colleague told the old woman.
I was sitting in my office listening to this conversation, my blood pressure was rising.
Behind me, is a water cooler, containing cold, spring water.
"There's water in here" I yelled out.
"That's for us" my colleague said. I proceeded to fill a glass and handed it to my elder.
"You can't waste that water. They can drink the tap water. That water is for staff. What happens if we run out?" He continued
"Then we go to the store and buy some more. It's one glass." I told him.
"It doesn't matter" he said, "that water is for us only"
We argued for close to 15 minutes.
I then confronted him with this question: "If a white fulla had come through and requested a glass of water, would you give them water from the tap?"
To which he replied: "It's not the same. They're (black fullas) used to drinking that water".
By this stage, I could have clobbered him. But I didn't. I was gobsmacked. I could not believe, that on a hot day like yesterday, he was absolutely unwilling to share ONE glass of water with an old lady because she was black! This was the underlying issue. He could not spare one glass of water out of fear he may run out, and, because this woman was, heaven forbid, "an abo".
What this man is totally unaware of, is that, he thinks, this mob is inferior to him. That, these black fullas aren't deserving of a cold glass of water, water that he has this idea of being 'custodian' of in the office. It is behviour like this mans, that makes him inferior. There is nothing powerful or empowering about greed or racism. There is nothing empowering about not having the ability to share. There is nothing empowering about not giving a shit about a fellow human being, regardless of colour, on a hot day.
This mob embrace sharing and generosity. They embrace it among families, friends, and, strangers. They do it better than anyone I've known. So what is it about a handful of white fullas who do not have the capacity to share?
Why do white fullas think black fullas are less than, inferior and not good enough?
And, what if, black fullas and white fullas, could co-exist with an exchange of knowledge, sharing and generosity. Would that not be empowering?
Recently, my attention has been drawn to generosity. Generosity - the black fulla way.
A few weeks ago a number of us were out at Lake Amadeus with Traditional Owners on a fauna survey; scientists, rangers, wildlife experts and a mob of old people. It was interesting watching this dynamic. Intersting because, I got to observe peoples different levels of sharing and generosity. Black fullas, white fullas. Sharing, in the context of food, water, knowledge, and, as individuals.
Barbara, a TO, humbled me with her generosity. She shared, without condition, traditional stories of that land, where water could be found, where sources of food could be located, where certain species of animals could be found. The knowledge and insight of this old woman was extraordinary. She hadn't been out to Lake Amadeus for over 30 years!
Scientists, with the knowledge Barbara had shared, went off quietly, unaccompanied, to 'check it out'. When they returned with their findings, they shared. Their sharing however, lacked generosity. It was in gobbledegook scientifc language and latin terminology. The average white fulla doesn't know what a carpius andronis is, let alone a mob of black fullas! They were stingy with their knowledge and what they had found and it irritated me!
Later that afternoon, Barbara caught a tinka. A small sand goanna. At night, we threw it into the hot coals and smoked it. Tinka is a white meat. Soft, a little greasy and is very sweet. And, delicious. When it was cooked, Barbara shared it with all of those white fulla scientists. She talked about where to find tinka, how to track it to it's burrow, how it is caught and killed. She explained this in plain english so that they could all understand. She withheld nothing. Barbara, like most Anangu (indigenous people from APY Lands) loves tinka. But she was happy to share it, without keeping any for herself or her family. She was generous. Unconditionally.
Only yesterday, I was at loggerheads with a colleague. An artist had called in to drop off some paintings. A senior woman. While she was waiting, she asked my colleague if she could have a glass of cold water. "There's the tap" he told her. "Wiya" she said. "Kapi kura" (No, that water is bad)
And, the water out of this particular tap is bad. It is only used for washing up. This tap is connected to a tank at the back of the art centre. The water runs through filthy gutters, and sits under a pepper tree. These berries fall into the tank and are poisonous. And recently, the tank was filled with the fire hose. Bottom line, water in this tank is not fit for human consumption!
"We haven't got any other water" my colleague told the old woman.
I was sitting in my office listening to this conversation, my blood pressure was rising.
Behind me, is a water cooler, containing cold, spring water.
"There's water in here" I yelled out.
"That's for us" my colleague said. I proceeded to fill a glass and handed it to my elder.
"You can't waste that water. They can drink the tap water. That water is for staff. What happens if we run out?" He continued
"Then we go to the store and buy some more. It's one glass." I told him.
"It doesn't matter" he said, "that water is for us only"
We argued for close to 15 minutes.
I then confronted him with this question: "If a white fulla had come through and requested a glass of water, would you give them water from the tap?"
To which he replied: "It's not the same. They're (black fullas) used to drinking that water".
By this stage, I could have clobbered him. But I didn't. I was gobsmacked. I could not believe, that on a hot day like yesterday, he was absolutely unwilling to share ONE glass of water with an old lady because she was black! This was the underlying issue. He could not spare one glass of water out of fear he may run out, and, because this woman was, heaven forbid, "an abo".
What this man is totally unaware of, is that, he thinks, this mob is inferior to him. That, these black fullas aren't deserving of a cold glass of water, water that he has this idea of being 'custodian' of in the office. It is behviour like this mans, that makes him inferior. There is nothing powerful or empowering about greed or racism. There is nothing empowering about not having the ability to share. There is nothing empowering about not giving a shit about a fellow human being, regardless of colour, on a hot day.
This mob embrace sharing and generosity. They embrace it among families, friends, and, strangers. They do it better than anyone I've known. So what is it about a handful of white fullas who do not have the capacity to share?
Why do white fullas think black fullas are less than, inferior and not good enough?
And, what if, black fullas and white fullas, could co-exist with an exchange of knowledge, sharing and generosity. Would that not be empowering?
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