Family
My sweetest memories of the last week on Elcho Island come from time spent with my Yolnu family. This included more trips out bush, fishing, playing music and listening to stories of the ‘old days’ from my Ngandi (mother). Now an energetic 65yo, she was 3yo and living on a remote Homeland when the first white men (missionaries) came to Elcho Island. Along with most other families, she moved into the Mission – established at what is now the town of Galiwin’ku. Her memories of the ‘mission days’ are very positive, with good schooling and everyone engaged in productive employment. Since the missionaries left (in the 1970s), things have gone downhill dramatically – with loss of Yolnu leaders, no respect for traditional law, and laziness.As one of the older Yolnu on Elcho Island, she has a unique insight into traditional law and possibilities for Yolnu to truly achieve self-determination. The majority of young Yolnu have little interest or respect for traditional law – but an equally poor understanding of “Balanda” (Western) law and culture. The latter is unfortunately largely based on American rap culture, one of the few models of successful black people available to them.
Interestingly, music and art have been some of the few avenues Yolnu have been able to consistently find expression. My last evening was spent with my brother (Marcus) and cousin (Manuel) – who are musicians blending Yolnu and Balanda sounds and values. Formally a member of Yothu Yindi, my Manuel now fronts a band called “Saltwater” which has broken into the mainstream music scene and will play at the Commonwealth Games next year. I had a great time learning songs, language and traditional dances from them.Death et cetera
During orientation, my cultural educator spent an inordinate amount of time discussing death and all the cultural intricacies associated with it. While I thought it was overkill at the time, I now realise why it was so important – as there was a funeral on Elcho every week, contributing to an uncomfortable atmosphere of grief and tension and much social disruption. I was able to attend a number of ceremonies, and will recount my very limited experience and understanding of this.
Following the ‘passing on’ of an Aboriginal person, dominant culture rituals take precident initially (certification, autopsy, coronial input etc.) – which invariably means removing the body from the community to Darwin. Grieving is put on hold until the body returns, which means the return is even more saturated with emotion.A ‘hearing ceremony’ takes place upon reception of the body, which begins with various traditional rituals to welcome the soul back home. With all relatives present (up to 100 people), a heated discussion then follows as logistics of the funeral are worked out.
Returning the body to its Homeland takes place up to a week after its return, with many smaller ceremonies in between. This holds most comparison to a Western funeral or memorial service, with all relatives and much of the extended community attending. Traditional dance and song take place, which are specific to the family, clan and Homeland. Family and community Elders then have their say – which may cover many topics, but never directly relating to the deceased person. Secret women’s and men’s business then occurs, with the physical burial being a more private affair.
As you can now appreciate, funerals mean total shutdown of everyday activities for many Yolnu – even if they are only more distantly related. On a practical note, this means that the Health Centre closes (except for emergencies) at every major ceremony.
Traditional Law
You may have heard recently the results of a Coronial inquiry following a spate of petrol-sniffing related deaths around Alice Springs. Aside from the many issues of substance abuse, this raised issues of the position of Traditional Aboriginal law in Australia. A few weeks earlier, an Elcho Island offender was handed over to Yolnu Elders for traditional punishment - a landmark Supreme Court decision. Currently, Aboriginal people are the most incarcerated ethnic group in developed countries – subject to an irrelevant, ineffective and often downright cruel and unfair justice system. This has been seen as a very positive step forward, both recognising traditional law as legitimate and returning some authority to traditional Elders to implement change in a meaningful way.Conclusions
Saying goodbye to Elcho Island, and the many friends I made in my short 6 weeks, was difficult. I have learnt so much about Aboriginality and what it means to be Australian. I have few answers, hundreds more questions, and a much better appreciation of the issues facing Aboriginal Australians. I would love to come back up to the Northern Territory as a doctor, perhaps a few years down the track …
Until next time, Djut djut (goodbye)!
On my final Saturday in Fang I headed off with the Community Health team to another Hilltribe village. Here we spent the morning immunizing children, and conducting family planning and basic medical consultations. The extent of these community visits is very limited. Only large villages in close proximity to Fang are visited, and even these visits are rare and provide only very basic care. Any villager who requires more than this must travel into Fang Hospital. Even then, I met no hospital staff who could speak any of the hilltribe languages so healthcare is often extremely veterinarian. There is certainly scope for much beneficial health outreach (particularly health education/promotion) among the hilltribes of northern Thailand.
