GUDJEKBINJ TRIP for Lonely Planet

11 Sept, 2000

Last night Richard I'Anson, photographer for the Lonely Planet guidebooks, arrived. He and I are going to Gudjekbinj, deep in the heart of NW Arnhem Land where Richard is to teach one of my Aboriginal relatives to take photographs for the LP's next publication, Guide to Aboriginal Australia. Amber, my 23 year old daughter is coming also, and Michael.

Only Hopie, the daughter of my older sister Esther will be learning. I had hoped more would be involved, but fate was against us. One potential student, a grandson was murdered and his wife my Gunyok (sister-in-law), another who wanted to learn, is secluded in mourning. She is also suspected by some to be the culprit (she is innocent). It is because of such troubles often fueled by alcohol, that the Bininj (meaning 'the people') are returning to remote safe outstations like Gudjekbinj where no alcohol is allowed.

That night my nephew (Nawagaidj) says he and his family want to return to Arnhem Land with us - he is worried about his mother. That makes six adults, four hens, (a gift for my sisters), camping gear and food enough for an army.

We pick the hens up along the way. As our normal supplier is shut we buy them from a battery. Poor things have had their upper beaks cut back and I feel so sorry for them. The hens are settled into a large cardboard box , but they are quite stressed. However given air, a little exercise and a drink every couple of hours they settle down and make the rest of the trip without problems.

We cross the East Alligator River at 3.30 pm, two hours before low, low tide. Even then the tide still tugs hard at the wheels of the big 4WD. I love this spot with its huge shady paperbarks, and the muddy, brackish water studded with rocks.

We drop my nephew and his family off at their house in Gunbalunya. While taking their bags from the back, I discover the chooks are falling through the bottom of their box, along with an egg. I'm relieved when Nawagaidj laughs - it's the first time I've seen this delightful young man do so in weeks.

We call in at DEMED the organisation that looks after outstations. The Gudjekbinj boys were to meet us there to show us the way. However the manager informs us that they've gone. I'm not sure where the turnoff is so he rings Gudjekbinj and asks that they go to the main road and wait for us.

It is difficult to watch birds while travelling as it is nearly sunset. But some are obvious - Whistling and Black kites, Brown Falcon, large flocks of Red-tailed Black and Sulphur-crested cockatoos, Galah, Rainbow Lorikeet, Red-winged Parrot, Blue-winged Kookaburra, Rainbow Bee-eater, Silver-crowned Friarbird, Yellow-throated Miner, Blue-faced Honeyeater, Black-faced Cuckoo-shrike, Magpie-lark and Torresian Crow,

One hundred kilometres down the dusty road and there is the DEMED truck and my grandsons (Maka) Manuel and Nehemiah waiting beside it.

At the outstation we camp in the some spot as last trip, on white sand under tall stringybarks. Esther tells me she spent all day raking it clean. I believe her - the sand is as neat as a wave-swept beach.

We wake early to the melodious gurgling of Silver-backed Butcherbird, squawks of Silver-crowned Friarbird and Yellow-throated Miner, the wark wark of Torresian Crow, and what seems like the whole Top End population of Blue-winged Kookaburras. No wonder I have trouble finding a specimen of Wall Skink (Cryptoblephorus plogiocephalus) which I've promised Paul Horner, Curator of Vertebrates at the NT Museum. I think they've all been eaten by the birds!

Flocks of Northern Rosellas fill the air with their soft cries and Black-tailed Treecreepers hop up the trees around the tents, their whistles echoing in the clear morning air. White-throated Honeyeaters are also calling, sometimes breaking into a trill on the some note. A White-gaped Honeyeater can be beard down at the nearby spring. Then a posse of Blue-faced Honeyeaters descend to the tops of the stringybarks causing a right old ruckus among the butcherbirds which are breeding - Michael finds their nest hidden in mistletoe high above us.

Breakfast sets the tone for the trip. Amber declines porridge - she has home-made muesli. My daughter has turned into a health nut! When I offer her the lid of my methylated spirit stove to use as a shallow bowl, she declines, stating to our great amusement that she doesn't like "flat cereal!"

Richard is the only one to accept her offer of breakfast. Chewing his way through what looks like pure roughage he notes that "this bowl will be free at 9 am" (in two hours time) and that 'cereal shouldn't hurt you'. I tell Amber that the breakfast will be good for her bike-riding - it will lower her centre of gravity! We break up in hysterics but Amber bears our mirth with great dignity.

After breakfast we walk to the main house. An L-shaped construction of iron cladding it consists of a couple of rooms which are used as bedrooms, attached to a wide verandah and sheltered cooking and eating area with sink and stainless steel table and benches. There is also a storeroom. Outside there is a shower and pit toilets outside. Power for the small freezer, the telephone and two power points is supplied by solar panels.

Mrs. Nganjmirra, one of my older sisters calls to Amber, "Ngangaridj: I call you Ngangaridj - daughter. You call me Mola". Hopie tells Amber she is her older sister, "You call me Yabok". Amber takes this in with her usual gorgeous toothy grin.

Using our new video camera I film Hopie tackling a tin of fruit with a large knife. I fear for her fingers needlessly as she deftly manoeuvres the blade around the lid as one would an ordinary tin opener.

Afterwards Richard begins to show Hopie how to use the camera but she is reticent and shy. I've warned Richard of this and he is very patient. I sit beside them trying to put things into simpler English for Hopie, a relatively easy task- as she already speaks the language quite well. But her nervousness makes it difficult for her to take the information in.

Later we set off for Kikikyaw (Little Bird Dreaming) with Esther and Mrs. Nganjmirra. Unfortunately Hopie doesn't come. She broke her leg a few months ago and it is still causing her trouble, but she will join us later if the pain subsides and we return for her. Also my Guk guk (grandchild through daughter's daughter), Shane has had a slight temperature for a few days and Hopie wants to ring a nurse. He seems to have bronchitis. I suggest he take some aspirin and lie down and he soon recovers.

We go after the plants which provide colour for dyeing the pandanus the old ladies weave. First we look near the old track that leads through Kikikyaw. The old ladies set a cracking pace and Richard has to continually bolt ahead with his camera. We eventually find the right tree, Mandulum (Cochlospermum reticulatam), the root of which gives a bright golden-yellow dye, and Mrs. Nganjmirra starts to dig. I help for a while but then Esther calls me to the other side of the track and I leave Amber to help Mrs. Nganjmirra, telling Richard to put his camera aside and help too. Esther is digging up Wirdlwirdl (Haemadorum sp), a plant in the same family as the kangaroo paw. Its bulbs give a bright red or pink.

Then the ladies go striding off again.

Esther finds some Manbalarr (Emu Apple, Owenia vernicosa) and tells me that they 'smash him alright' to make medicine, It is so strong that children aren't allowed to touch it.

Birds recorded in the brief moment I have to scan this area are Brown Falcon, Sulphur-crested Cockatoo, Rufous-throated Honeyeater and Weebill. Just recording these few was an effort. As dada (younger sister), I'm at the beck and call of Esther and Mrs. Nganjmirra. "Carry this, dig that! " they yell at me.

At Kikikyaw Miriam shows me little caves and tells me this was a place where 'old generations' lived, her father and grandfather. She lived here as a child.

Driving down the road and there is a large kalawan (goanna). It is Djani (Gould's Goanna, Varanus gouldii), a species that all can eat.We abandon the vehicle and run towards a pile of logs into which the goanna has dived. But the reptile has gone to ground and at first we can't see it. "Aha!" there it is lying prone under a branch near my feet. Esther passes me a metal digging stick and on the count of three we hit the goanna. Richard says he couldn't do it (that is, kill the goanna) and Amber winces and looks away. But both accept that this is the Kunwinjku way,that such food and exercise helps to keep everyone in good health, and keeps their ties to the land intact.

We continue down to the creek - the water is so clear that one can see Black-striped Rainbow fish swimming around., and one of my favourites, Purple-spotted Gudgeon

Together the women take a carpet out of the back of the car and settle it under the pandanus. With paperbark Esther starts a fire and when the coals are red hot digs a hole in which she buries the dead goanna, till just its head shows above the ashes.

Down at the water's edge Esther throws a line in. But the fishing is slow at this time of day and all she catches is one Black Bream. In the meantime I go off birdwatching. and find Brush Cuckoo, Red-backed Fairy-wren, White-gaped, Dusky and Brown honeyeaters, Leaden Flycatcher, Rufous Whistler, Silver-backed Butcherbird and Great Bowerbird.

In a little while Richard leaves to pick up Hopie. I suggest Amber go with him because of Hopie's reluctance to be near a man she doesn't know, even one as easygoing as Richard. Hopie later tells me that she doesn't know what. to say to him. I say that she doesn't, need to say anything, that even I didn't talk to him all the time. I explain this to Richard. who understands. Later he goes up to her with the camera and together they wander around taking photos.

Tearing a thick sheet of bark from a paperbark tree Esther begins to dissect the cooked goanna with a knife. Turning it on its back she lays open each side of the spine and cuts through the ribs (the opposite way to how balanda (white people) carve up an animal. Then she takes out the liver which to me looks huge for the size of the animal. Dipping it in the body juices, she nibbles while working away on the rest of the animal.

Different people get different parts of an animal. The hunter usually takes the worst bits. However the old ladies or mother-in-laws (I'm both) get the best. I get one whole side of the tail which I share with the others. The two little boys with us get a leg each.

Then we go off to collect pandanus in the swamp, the old ladies carrying hessian bags and 'hook sticks' (the broken off fork of a branch which, inverted, is used to pull down the vertical fronds). The ground is very boggy and covered with grass so green it almost shimmers like an emerald from a distance, but with black strips, the trunks of pandanus burned by a long-gone fire.

On the way back home I spot another kalawan, up a tree this time. Esther gets out to have a look but it has disappeared out of sight. "Mebbe lil' one,' she says holding her hands 10 cms apart. I reply "bigger". "Big?' she queries.

'Not ngangmar (big). Only little bit big," I say. She laughs.

Everywhere we go Esther and Mrs. Nganjmirra tell me plant and bird and place names, sometimes shrieking them at me as if by turning up the volume they can force them into my head. "Mandjalem, Mangole, Manlarr, Manbologorr, Kurrugadji, Marrkanjabarr".

'I tell you this. Why you not remember?" Esther yells at me, I yell back "Too much name Go slow!" She laughs.

By the dying light of sunset we go to wash in a nearby creek, slipping off the stones into cool, clear water. Beyond is a small bushfire and soundlessly, as we watch, a small tree explodes into flame and topples over.

Next day Mrs. Nganjmirra and Manuel my grandson, Richard, Michael, Amber and I set off for another part of Kikikyaw called Benedjangalweng. Here, ancient sandstone rocks are stacked like pancakes, and beneath lie small-room-sized caves, their floors worn smooth with long occupation. They are surrounded by small palms, Livistona inermis, slender, attractive plants in which Mimis, rock spirits so skinny the wind can break them. Mrs. Nganjmirra tells me 'old generation' lived here, including her grandfather. She leads us to some paintings so old the haematite (red ochre) has bonded with the rock. One is of a pregnant women with a basket, another of a powerfully-built man tying down. He is a spirit-figure, with six fingers on each hand,

Mrs. Nganjmirra has been telling me all along of this being, Naworro. I should write about this place she says. "This Naworro,' she says, "he speaks to me and old sister (Esther), and you."

Nowarro came here from Maningrida with his two young wives, she says, But he hit them and they left, making him very angry.

A French mining company plans to explore Gudjekbinj for minerals, and both Esther and Mrs. Nganjmirra are worried. if Naworro is disturbed, `might be dangerous,' might kill us all". They tell me I must learn about these places so I can protect them. 'You our sister. You help!" Near the car my Yabok picks flowers which she places in my hat.

We drive on through open forest some of which is burnt or dessicated. But there are also springs, where grass grows green. We stop near a river and pile out. From here we walk up a hill on the opposite side to where escarpment looms overhead. We are following in the steps of Naworro, looking for a site where Mrs. Nganjmirra tells me, Naworo's wives dropped their hook stick. This place is called Karbenadjaringlawe.

I take Mrs. Nganjmirra's arm for the rough ground is hard work, and the climb up the escarpment even more so. As we pick our way upwards through the broken rock and spiky Triodia sp. Mrs. Nganjmirra begins to call loudly telling the old spirits that we are coming and where we are from.

It takes a while to find Karbenadjaringlawe for no one has been here for a long time. But the climb is worth it, for the walls and ceiling of the large rock shelter are covered with intricate paintings. On the roof an Antilopine Wallaroo, just like ones at Ubirr, garfish, one of the sisters, and of course Naworro. Here Yabok tells me 'those two sisters they say to Naworro, we going leave you. We go Bulbinarra (east of Gudjekbinj). Naworro was cutting those trees with long yam (Dioscorea transversa) when he got angry."

Sitting there she begins to sing, the Mimi song beating time as she does so. Then she repeats it so I can learn the words and the tune. She tells me of the dance of the two sisters - Manyankgo. Then she tells Richard that she wants pictures of her family around her, so we all gather around while Richard snaps away. As we sit there a sandstone shrike-thrush hops over the rocks peering at us. When later I tell Esther she says, "That bird looking after that place".

We climb down about 5.30 pm. Going back through the bush Mrs. Nganjmirra asks for a cigarette lighter saying she wants to 'clean up the country". We joke about Richard going back down south and telling people what he did in Arnhem Land, 'Oh, I helped set fire to the bush!" However Manuel takes the task upon himself, setting fire to the grass behind us. Flames race up the hill scorching the trees black. When I looked again billowing grey smoke has blocked the sunlit face of Karbenadjaringlawe.

Birds I noted in this area were Forest Kingfisher, Rainbow Bee-cater, White-bellied Cuckoo-shrike, Brown, White-throated, White-lined and Rufous-throated honeyeaters, Lemon-bellied and Leaden flycatchers, Spangled Drongo and Great Bowerbird.

Next morning I awake early to a cold pre-dawn, and the barking of Barking Owl and Tawny Frogmouth's soft 'oom-oom'. Soon other birds begin calling - the species mentioned before plus Lemon-bellied Flycatcherand Northern Fantail. In the distance a Pheasant Coucal begins its bubbling run down and up the scale. Red-winged Parrots and flocks of Northern Rosellas come in to feed at the very tops of the stringybarks. A Whistling Kite that flies in above the houses is attacked first by the butcherbirds, and then by magpie-larks.

By now fifteen or so kookaburras are shrieking in the trees all around. They too are attacked by the butcherbirds, and then by several Blue-faced honeyeaters that have also joined in the cacophony. They have young birdswith them, easily identified by their olive-yellow faces. Down by the spring we spot Bar-shouldered Dove, Little Friarbird, Rufous Whistler and Olive-backed and Yellow orioles. A small flock of Varied Lorikeets passes high overhead.

Amber decides this morning that she simply has to go jogging, and there she is, dressed in running shorts and sports top. As usual our teasing doesn't faze her.

"What should I do," she asks sensibly, "if I meet a buffalo?"

"Just stand still and stretch your arms out," I reply. She isn't the only one nervous of buffalo. Esther tells me that she is scared of meeting these huge creatures when she goes after pandanus and colour. I wish I had money enough to buy her a vehicle so she is safer.

Later that day we go out to dig long yams with Esther. They grow in some profusion in sandy soil near the banks of a creek, their distinctive seed pods obvious.

To get to the yams we must first dig a hole deep enough to sit in. Then Esther climbs in and continues to dig, taking turns with Amber. Esther is almost out of sight by the time she unearths the first long yam - it is white and swollen, and in several pieces. Then we dig another two large holes from which Esther unearths more yams. Later Amber, Richard and I go rambling off looking for rocks in the creek, We find some beautiful agates and rust-red jasper and smoky quartz crystals. I tell the others they must ask my sisters if they con keep the rocks, which they do.

At this creek I record Brown, Dusky and White-gaped honeyeaters, Mistletoebird, Leaden Flycatcher and Spangled Drongo. Down at the river that night for a swim we see a covey of Brown Quail.

For dinner we eat long yam. Cooked and mashed they are as good as the best potato I have ever tasted. Indeed I LOVE long yam, and hoe in. Esther tells Amber, 'My Dada (younger sister) she eat everything - long yam, goanna, turtle guts." Amber tells Esther that she thinks I'm special too. Knowing her squeamishness I suspect she means she's never known anyone else to have a mother who eats such things. I remind her she used to eat dog biscuits as a child, and Esther, misunderstanding, nudges me, *You don't say such thing!' I explain that this occurred when Amber was very small, and we all laugh.

The next morning we go to the old camp where more of Miriam's relatives once lived. Sitting on a rock Mrs. Nganjmirra points out places to me that she wants me to remember. On the way back to camp we visit a dreaming rock with more exquisite .paintings underneath.

On the way to Yirrkakak we drive past Bod (Fly Dreaming). The woodland here is sparse, and dry and the ground rocky. Grey-crowned Babblers call from the scraggly trees and a small flock of finches whiz past for too fast for me to identify. The fishing spot is a clear waterhole and creek shaded by paperbarks and overhung by sandstone escarpment on top of which grow huge Allosnycarpia ternata, a large tree endemic to the Arnhem Land escarpment. Leaving the others fishing I climb up the top and find what looks like good habitat for White-throated Grasswren. However I don't see, nor hear any birds (not surprising in the heat of the day). Esther scared I will fall, yells at me to come down.

That afternoon we leave Gudjekbinj. Hopie is sad to see us go for she has warmed to Richard. She says that at first she didn't want to have anything to do with him but he has won her approval. And she isn't the only one. Esther and Shane are coming to Darwin with us. Esther's daughter, Shane's mother is opparently seriously ill in Darwin hospital.

Along the Maningrida road I spot a B1ack-breasted Buzzard flying with Black and Whistling kites. A Brown Falcon sits upright on the side of the road. The bush is burning. Orange flames send grey smoke billow skyward through the dusty foliage of the little Broad-leaved Paperbarks Melaleuca viridflora - their twisted white trunks are blackened with soot. Thick smoke blots out the features of the rock of Nimbuwah leaving just the huge purple sillhouette looming over us like a thundercloud. Nimbuwah is a dangerous site. Esther tells of a helicopter pilot landing on the top and taking off again in panic when he felt the rock beneath him shaking.

It is late when we arrive home. Richard autographs the book he has left for us (Chasing Rickshaws) and I autograph two of mine for him. As he leaves he yells goodbye to Esther, but she doesn't hear which saddens her. "He good man," she says the next morning, 'I wanted to say goodbye to him proper way'.