(This dispatch is from 29 August 2011)
Ave amici (Italian: Hail Friends… Latin: Fowl Friends…. Take your pick)
The 45th. anniversary of the Wave Hill Gurinji walk off that was the egg from which Northern Territory Land Rights hatched was celebrated last week at Kalkarindgi and Daguragu.
On our way there, we overnighted in a back yard in Lajamanu.
A bird cacophony started at 6 a.m. As Dylan Moran once said “The trees were singing and the birds were swaying”.
Punctually at 7 a.m. the strangest of birds joined the chorus.
Screeching eerily like a suburban train platform announcement we heard “Hello, good morning, the sun is shining brightly this beautiful Friday morning in Lajamanu. I’ll be back in an hour to pick you up to go to school….” Similar announcements wafted across sporadically as the school bus wended its way around Lajamanu streets.
Am told that a Warlpiri man was offered and accepted a position at the school. When he was told that the job consisted of driving the school bus wielding a megaphone at sparrow’s fart he took flight.
As well as acting like the town crier, the multi tasking Principal has started a banana plantation. Lajamanu school has more banana plants than pupils.
The ‘Freedom Day’ celebrations started with a re-enactment of the walk-off. The surviving members of that historic event were joined by a multitude of supporters. It felt like this was the ‘The Walk-off Mark 2’ but alas it wasn’t.
Gurindji Blues composed by Ted Egan, one-time Superintendent of Yuendumu: http://youtu.be/EdLIlyhLewI
Then came the speeches. Speaker after speaker expressed frustration and anger and sorrow that after such a hopeful beginning we’d come full circle. Every time a speaker expressed disillusionment or anger at the Intervention, it elicited enthusiastic applause. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t all just political antagonism; some very beautiful words were spoken about the spirit that drove Vincent Lingiari and his brethren; about the importance of Land. Rosalie Kunoth-Monks like a wise owl, defiantly declared that Australia did not have ‘an Aboriginal Problem’ but a ‘White Australian Problem’, and yes, many very funny things were said. If laughter is the best medicine we all came away healthier and happier, also sadder.
Mercifully politicians at the celebrations were like the Gouldian Finches, rare and endangered.
Paul Henderson and his flock mounted the podium. Thus spoke Paul:
“In regards to the intervention, I have said very strongly to the Prime Minister, to Minister Macklin with the review that’s happening at the moment, no more intervention…..”
wild applause ……. And then the punch-line:
“I will not support, as the Chief Minister of the Northern Territory, I will not support any new program that has the word intervention in it.”
Stunned silence….
Once again, oppression by semantic warfare. Don’t mention the war! http://youtu.be/7xnNhzgcWTk
In the evenings came the concerts. Musicians flew in from far and wide.
A highlight was the Black Arm Band. Consummate musicians all. They sang like nightingales. Songs of protest, songs of freedom, songs of sorrow.
Only two of them were left on the stage to close their segment with a song (actually two songs if you listen carefully). A song of hope.
Here it is:
http://youtu.be/q5aMNXdd3iU somewhere over the rainbow blue birds fly
Bonum vesperum,
Franciscus audiens et observator