Always Follow Directions

Road signs on the Mereenie Loop, near Kings Canyon.


The long title to this post is 'Always Follow Directions from the Locals'. But this story is really about Walu.

Where's Walu?

The July 06 Ngaanyatjarra Council meeting was happening in Walu. Walu is a waterhole in the middle of the Lands, between Jameson and Blackstone. Basically, it was a small place with a waterhole, a windmill and a lot of people waiting for a meeting.

The meeting was at Walu because it was the 25th anniversary of Council. It was also the site where the 99 year lease on the Ngaanyatjarra Lands was handed down. Mr Reid from Blackstone also wanted to do a walk for diabetes on his country. So Walu for the Council meeting it was.

Filled with confidence, the Council Lawyer, Leanne Stedman, and I arrived in Blackstone the evening before. We had a map. We had a car. We were two people with a basic idea of where we were and where we needed to be.

Next morning, we filled the car up with diesel and set off from Blackstone. Just as the map predicted, a turn to the left about 12k from town appeared. We turned left. No worries.

About 90k into the trip, a junction appeared. Just as the map predicted. Walu was about 1k down the road, on the right. Fantastic. We were spot on the money. The girls had done it, arrived on time, no flat tyres, no problems.

About 10k past where Walu was, we wondered if we'd missed it. Easy enough to do. Turned around, came back. Missed it again. Turned around went back. Missed it again.

Doubt set in. Where was Walu?...

Surely someone else coming to the meeting would turn up soon. Time for an orange, few biscuits, sip of water. Take a photo of the country.

Red dust in the distance. A vehicle. (Walu must be near).

Mr Newberry slows down. Mr Newberry is the Council Policy Officer, and senior Ngaanyatjarra leader. He'd know where Walu was, and we knew him (all was well in the world again).

Mr Newberry looked at us, shook his head, and said "You need to go to Blackstone". Leanne and I, too polite, sat there thinking "We just came from Blackstone. 2 hours ago." Mr Newberry said again, "You need to go to Blackstone. Ask somebody to show you."

This wasn't really the news we wanted to hear. Maybe Mr Newberry didn't know where Walu was. Maybe he didn't know how close it was.

Just to check we were where we thought on the map, I asked what direction to Blackstone. Of course, I knew Blackstone was in front of us (we'd just come from there). Mr Newberry pointed behind us and said "you've gotta go that way".

Confirmation. Mr Newberry didn't know where he was. Walu was near. The map was clear and unequivocal. We checked the position of the sun (we were facing north, as we thought, just as the map said).

We waited for Mr Newberry to go and thought hard. We had to be right. Strange that Mr Newberry was wrong... Continue on ahead to Walu.

Half an hour later, another car. Time to find Walu!

"Which way to Walu?"

"You better go back to Blackstone. Ask someone there."

(Damn)

"Which way Blackstone?" (It's in front of us)

"You gotta turn around, and go that other way."

(Humble pie. Time to go back to Blackstone. U-turn).

One hour later, we arrive in Blackstone. We couldn't find Walu. We filled up the car, and asked a local. "Which way to Walu?"

Thankfully, Mr Kanari (Blackstone Chairman) jumped into the driver's seat. He'll show us. (This'll be interesting...). And so we set out ... from a completely different road!

Turning confidently through forks in the road, negotiating some tricky muddy patches, Mr Kanari got us to Walu.

The moral of the story is:

• always have Yarnangu in the driver's seat,
• don't trust that whitefella map,
• trust the locals - they know where they are going.

In the end, we had the car but they knew where we were going and how to get us there!

(And, just to complete the story, we arrived four hours late and right on time. It's Yarnangu land and Yarnangu time!)

Release the Tourist Within

It had to happen. Yes, I confess. I went to Uluru. I did a tour of Kata Tjuta (the Olgas). I walked the rim of King's Canyon. I scrambled through Ormiston Gorge. I had my photo taken in front of the usual suspects. I took too many photos. I released the tourist within. Here she is...

But it hasn't all been a bed of roses. The last few weeks have been pretty hectic on the work front, with trips to Adelaide, Perth, and twice to the Ngaanyatjarra Lands. I'm beginning to wonder why I pay rent in Alice!

The trips out to the Ngaanyatjarra Lands and Perth have been valuable in now beginning to establish relationships with community members. It takes a lot of time and energy to be travelling so much, and usually means the days start at 7am and finish at 11pm (getting up to get there, talking to colleagues on the way, general business, then talking to colleagues through dinner and countless cups of tea). But for all that, it's the nature of the business and I do feel an enormous sense of privilege to have the opportunity to work here, to meet such amazing people, and to be invited into their lives.

I've just returned from a week in Warburton. As usual, it's not appropriate to bring out my camera, so no photos. In fact, I was reminded how inappropriate it is when I attended a 'consultation' between some incoming politicians on a Senate Inquiry and a classroom of 10 kids. Once the talking had finished, the kids gathered around the Hansard stenographer to check out her electronic shorthand computer. The chair of the inquiry whipped out his camera and took a photo without asking! Now this may not seem particularly shocking to you, but at the time it really reinforced to me how much kids in these situations are completely objectified, rendered 'cute' and something to be captured on film for the photographer's personal benefit. It also seemed to imply a degree of engagement with the inquiry that was in fact completely lacking. The politicians had no idea how to communicate the issue at hand to kids with very limited understanding of systems of government and English as a second or third language. Another failed 'fly in, fly out' consult with Aboriginal people to add to the list. [Sigh]

Most recent logistical challenge:

Arriving at Warburton with no bed for the night, no food, no one to pick me up from the airstrip, and no return passage. Luckily, these things sorted themselves out (as I guessed they would, but all credit to John Isgar for some much appreciated help!).

Cannibals at the Cup

15th July 2006 - Alice Springs Camel Cup!


What luck that Christine McPaul, David Frencham and Aidan were in town to experience this annual event. But, as they assure me, serendipity happens all the time - they're a charmed couple, and the world responds in kind.

Don't think the Cup runs without controversy, and I'm not referring to any shenannigins between jockeys and owners. National and international attention was spotlighted on the Cup and its sponsors this year. Minnie Made - the local brothel - decided that it needed to do its bit for the broader community, thereby providing some balance to its operations, and sponsor a camel. After all, the Cup is serious business. All manner of businesses get behind it, so to speak. However, on hearing of this outrageous development, one Mr Concerned Citizen wrote to the Lions Club International HQ in Illinois, USA, to seek their assistance with reprimanding the local community group hosting this year's Cup. As could probably be expected from the Lions Club in Alice Springs, they were less than impressed at any 'guidance' on appropriate sponsorship from their American colleagues . The message was elegantly conveyed by the Lions Club head honcho , who said that if murderers could go to church and put their money in the plate, then Minnie Made could sponsor a camel.

The pictures tell the rest of story of the Cup, so I won't ride on too long. However, I would like to draw your attention to Chris and David tucking into camel ribs below. Now, frankly, I'm of the view that eating camel at the camel cup is akin to eating a side of human ribs at an athletics meet, but hey, who am I to talk. Suffice it to say that I indulged instead in strawberry pancakes with icecream.



Camel facts (for the curious):

1. Australia is the only country with wild camels.

2. The canine and incisor teeth of the camel grows continuously and they need a diet of coarse material to keep their teeth down.

3. If a grain of sand slips through the 'screen'-like camel eyelashes, an inner eyelid automatically wipes the sand off like a windshield wiper.

4. A camel's hump stores fat not water.

5. A camel can take in 35 galloons of water in six minutes.

Yes It's True - The 10th Annual Beanie Festival is Here

This blog is breaking news! The 10th Annual Beanie Festival is on and it's BIG.

Ordinarily, I'm not a big beanie fan, a small beanie fan, or even a beanie fan at all. But the craze that is beanie-mania (not to be mistaken for Beatle-mania) is contagious, and I'm catching on. Yesterday, I owned no beanies. Now I'm the proud owner of three.

Of course, one can only purchase one's beanie at Beanie Central - a veritable treasure trove of all known styles of beanies.

One must try before one buys, and exercise due caution about the type of beanie one is prepared to wear.

( To truly understand these comments, you'll need to go onto the link above to 'More of Sophie's photos' - I've had a technical glitch and think I've overloaded this entry with too many photos.)

But all in all, the most important thing is to have a beanie, and be proud!

And for Beanie Afficionados, some Beanie Facts:

• Alice Springs is the self-declared Beanie Capital of the World.
• The first festival was a one day event, held in 1996. It's now a four day festival that attracts tourists and beanie-fanatics from across the world.
• Pitjantjatjara people were making mukata before settlement, wearing them as ceremonial headdress made from human hair and emu feathers. Old men would store sacred objects under their mukata (with some elders today still storing modern sacred items, such as their car key).
• The winner of the Beanie Olympics (fastest beanie-making time, with beanie size to cover the tips of your ears), is 13.5 minutes.
• Beanies are perfect for the desert - it's cold out here at night, and humans lose 90% of their body warmth through their head (or so I've heard).

http://www.beaniefest.org

Things to Do on the Weekend

I must admit that I'm beginning to worry if I have an advanced case of 'nesting-itis'. Tourists on a four day trip of the Red Centre have seen more of the surrounding countryside than I have. As a resident of Alice Springs for close to 4 months, that makes about 16 weekends where I have basically chosen to play at home rather than get out!

Admittedly, I've been finding out where things are, what's on, and what I want to do. And gradually accumulating routines. The Basic Weekend now looks like this:

• Sat: Gym, 11am Yoga, 1.30pm Saturday Papers, Clean Clothes, [Insert Event Here], Snuggle up with Book or Go Out
• Sun: Sleep In, Markets (fortnightly), Avoid Shopping for Food, 3.30pm Meditation, 5pm Walk with Tahana, 7pm Arthouse Movie

It doesn't leave much room for tourist-y like activities (such as heading off to Emily or Jessie's Gap, King's Canyon, Uluru etc). But then again, Alice is not short of things to do on the weekend:

One of the big weekend past-times in Alice is the Saturday morning garage sales. There lots of goodies, because there's lots of people moving in and out of Alice at a relatively fast pace (quite apart from the Americans who are disbursing their 2-3 years worth of accumulated parapharnelia as they leave Pine Gap). After one fruitful weekend, see haul above, I decided that the early morning dedication and the likelihood of watching $30 regularly go down the drain on items that I didn't really need was not my thing.

Then there's Alice Springs Desert Park. This is one of those great 'fallback' options for a weekend saunter. Desert Park is a large expanse of park in the desert (strange but true). It would be described by fancy menu designers as 'artfully nestled on a bed of sandstone, accompanied by a backdrop of Macdonnell Ranges'. It is filled with an excellent expanse of desert flora and fauna exhibits, including a few handy signs that tell you what is obviously right in front of you (but which you can't see for the trees). There's also the Bird of Prey show, which seems to bring wild birds together with hunks of meat and some excellent choreography ("these types of logs are used for owls to hide in while waiting for their prey, and yes, here he comes right now out of the log" etc).

And of course, as mentioned above, there is always the bi-monthly Todd Mall Markets. I tend to go to the markets because (a) it's something to do, and once a fortnight is long enough to forget what it's like and (b) there are good coffee, great dahl, and excellent frozen fruit smoothie stalls. Basically, it's the food and the drink that brings me in.

But if I were truthful - painfully honest - the Markets are the soft exposed underbelly of an otherwise great little town. It's what I like to describe as the 'covered toilet roll holder' heart of the town. The only useful items I've purchased so far haves been a handy peg basket and a freak good second hand book. As I vainly scour the available stalls (including information on local politicians, becoming a Ba'Hai convert, and the ubiquitous covered holders of all known household items), I become painfully conscious that I'm living in a Small Town.

But all is not lost. Stay tuned for the drama of the ... drum roll, please ... 10th Annual Beanie Festival!!