Dreamtime and a sacred land

Driving north from Sydney to Coffs Harbour was largely uneventful today.  It took us eight hours, which is rather intense.  On the way, our guide talked with us about the history of the aboriginal peoples of Australia.  It sounded exactly like the story of Canada’s First Nations peoples.  So much pain, destruction, and erasure of aboriginal culture, all at the hands of the dominant and invading culture.  What was once a country of hundreds of different aboriginal tribes and languages, estimated somewhere in the region between 250 to 400 various languages, has now been whittled down to approximately 10-24 ‘aboriginal language families.’  It’s not difficult to figure out what happened.   Parallel to what happened with First Nations peoples in Canada, with the residential schools, the aboriginal peoples of Australia also faced a powerful and dominant white culture that tried to erase aboriginal culture.

The film “Rabbit Proof Fence” tells the story of three young aboriginal girls who were taken from their homes in Jigalong and taken to the Moore River Native Settlement mission.  Once there, they were not allowed to speak their own language,  were meant to pray to a Christian god that was not theirs, and, if they were brave enough to question authority, they very likely might have been abused both physically and mentally.  The film, based on Doris Pilkington Garamar’s novel, shows how the girls escaped the school and returned to their homelands by following what was referred to as a “rabbit proof fence.”   This was actually not one fence, but a series of three fences that were built between 1901 and 1907 to keep rabbits, emus and other pests from crossing into the Western Australia pastoral areas.  In the story, the girls follow the fence home.

The abduction of aboriginal children is nothing new for Canadians, if you are willing to read and research the real story behind the residential schools.  In Australia, a man named A.O. Neville was given the title “Chief Protector of the Aborigines,” but that, it seems to me, was far from the truth.  He had many reprehensible theories and ideas that he put into place through legislation, but one of the worst, in my mind, was the theory that he could “breed out” the aboriginals, as if they were pests to be eradicated.  Pilkington Garamar’s novel, and the subsequent film version, speak to the horrific way in which Neville treated the aboriginal peoples, but especially children.

So much of what I heard today echoes Canada’s own horrific treatment of First Nations peoples.  There is a sense, too, of exploitation of culture even now, in 2013.  For instance, in Sydney yesterday, I noticed the mass produced artwork.  There were coasters, tea trivets, oven mitts, apron, fridge magnets, canvas tote bags, and boomerangs, just to name a few types of souvenirs, almost all of which were covered with bright aboriginal designs.  When you turn over the supposed artwork, though, you see that it was mass produced, with a note that says “Made by an aboriginal artist.”  When you see thousands of the same pattern, though, it doesn’t take long to figure out that this is a big business and a conveyor belt production.  There’s no way I’ll buy mass produced art.  I want to support local artists wherever and whenever I shop for art, whether at home in Northern Ontario, or abroad when I’m on holiday.  Tomorrow, I’ll get a chance to purchase original aboriginal art (yeah, I know it sounds funny!).  It will cost me more than the rip offs will, but I’ll know exactly where my money goes.  It won’t go into the pockets of big business, but it will go directly to an artist with a face and a name.

Traveling beyond Sydney, seeing more of the beautiful countryside, you do get a sense of how vast and raw this land is….it is sacred.  With the sun setting early here, due to it being winter now and because of Australia’s position on the globe, the sky is entrancing.  At sunset, there is a tangerine glow that silhouettes hundreds of ferny, leafy trees, so that it looks like someone has etched out a Wedgwood carving.  It feels sacred, not unlike how Manitoulin Island feels when you stand on its spirited shores.  At night now, the stars are so bright….and you can see The Southern Cross, a constellation that is only visible in the Southern Hemisphere.  Without being all weird and overdramatic, this place seems magical to me.  Just now, before I head off to sleep, I hear some bird outside calling, a song I haven’t heard before, and I feel blessed to  be surrounded by such vivid sensory experiences in a new land….

peace,

k.

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