Giving Back

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?