I found myself uttering a sentence yesterday which caused me stop in my tracks, and dwell on what I had just said.
Sitting on the grass, watching the children's Twilight Faction Sports Carnival, I complained to a friend that life in Paraburdoo had "too many hours in the day".
Imagine saying that? But so many of the time consuming aspects of life - such as a school commute, work commute, two-hour round-trips to the supermarket - are non-existent here. It takes five minutes to walk to the local shop (I never drive), the kids skip off to school in the mornings three minutes before the bell, and DH's job is a five minute drive away.
The hustle and bustle of life has fled, leaving behind a simple, uncluttered existence of chores, family, and internet shopping. Lots of internet shopping.
I would be lying if I said I didn't miss the mindless shop-wandering I used to spend so much time doing, because I do - emphatically. I miss going into a newly discovered cafe and perusing a menu I've never seen before. I miss piling everyone into the car on a Sunday and saying, 'right, where shall we go today?' Oh and I miss bookshops with all my heart and although Amazon is generally better value, it's not the same as flicking through a book, feeling its weight in your hands, smelling the pages before you commit to buying it.
Of course you can pile into the car and head off on a Sunday, but unless you're a big nature freak, and are happy to spend hours just looking at rocks and grass and stuff, there's nowhere to actually go. You can literally drive for hours in any direction without even passing another car on the road.
We've taken the five hour trip to Karratha - our nearest 'shopping town' - a couple of times, just for a change of scenery. Although when DH announced, following a couple of circuits around the ugly, industrial, broken-pavemented eyesore, that it was a 'lovely little town,' it struck me that we'd been away from civilisation for too long.
But I'm not complaing. The children have quickly become feral, and play out until twilight, often requiring a search and rescue team to recover them when it gets too dark. As soon as they finish their school day, they joyfully kick off their shoes and run barefoot to the playground or skate park.
And we have a constant stream of children running through the house, all equally barefoot and feral.
I can honestly say I've learned more about Australia since I got here than I did during the year I spent in Perth. Being in a small community can force you to get up close and personal with your surroundings, engaging you in a way that would be impossible in an anonymous city.
Learning stuff I didn't know...
I've been lucky enough to find a small amount of paid work from the local magazine, which has meant having to learn pretty quickly about all sorts of odd things. For example, when my editor emailed me some notes and asked me to write up a short piece about the NAIDOC celebrations, my first question was, 'what on earth is NAIDOC?'
Having read her notes, this question was quickly followed by, 'and what is a damper-making competition?'
'What is a Welcome to Country ceremony?'
'What is pindan dirt?'
'What is spinifex?'
'Can you use the word Aboriginal, or is it more PC to say Indigenous?'
(OK I didn't ask her all those questions, I looked them up on Wikipedia, I didn't want to talk myself out of a job.)
Anyway, in case you're wondering, NAIDOC is the National Aboriginies and Islanders Day Observance Committee, and is celebrated for a week every July. It acknowledges the contribution made by the Indigenous people and celebrates their culture. It's a big thing up here in the Pilbara, and every town has some sort of event to celebrate it. Perhaps they did something down in Perth, but I simply don't remember...
Damper is a traditional bread made out in the bush, by swagmen, drovers, stockmen and other travellers, and is baked over the coals of a campfire.
The Welcome to Country is a ceremony used at the start of official meetings, launches or other occasions, and involves acknowledging the traditional custodians of the land. An Indigenous person performs the protocol, by either song, dance, speech or ceremony.
Pindan dirt is the blood red dirt you see up here in the Pilbara. It gets everywhere! Our silver grey rug which I lovingly bought in Abu Dhabi is now beige.
Spinifex is the spiky pale grass you see everywhere around here. It's almost silver in a particular light.
As for what to call the first settlers in Australia, well the jury is out it seems and depends not just on who you talk to, but where you are in the country. Some consider 'Aboriginal' insulting, choosing instead 'Indigenous' or even 'Aboriginal and Torres Straight Islanders', or in some cases, the politically incorrect 'blackfellas', but it seems that the people themselves are quite happy with 'Aborigine'.
The Warlu Way
All around this part of the world, there are signs for the Warlu Way. I was curious about this - what did it mean, since some of the signs simply point into the bush? I did a little digging and managed to write a short piece about it for the magazine, but they didn't use it in the end, so rather than let it go to waste, thought I'd share it here.
Sitting on the grass, watching the children's Twilight Faction Sports Carnival, I complained to a friend that life in Paraburdoo had "too many hours in the day".
Imagine saying that? But so many of the time consuming aspects of life - such as a school commute, work commute, two-hour round-trips to the supermarket - are non-existent here. It takes five minutes to walk to the local shop (I never drive), the kids skip off to school in the mornings three minutes before the bell, and DH's job is a five minute drive away.
The hustle and bustle of life has fled, leaving behind a simple, uncluttered existence of chores, family, and internet shopping. Lots of internet shopping.
I would be lying if I said I didn't miss the mindless shop-wandering I used to spend so much time doing, because I do - emphatically. I miss going into a newly discovered cafe and perusing a menu I've never seen before. I miss piling everyone into the car on a Sunday and saying, 'right, where shall we go today?' Oh and I miss bookshops with all my heart and although Amazon is generally better value, it's not the same as flicking through a book, feeling its weight in your hands, smelling the pages before you commit to buying it.
Of course you can pile into the car and head off on a Sunday, but unless you're a big nature freak, and are happy to spend hours just looking at rocks and grass and stuff, there's nowhere to actually go. You can literally drive for hours in any direction without even passing another car on the road.
We've taken the five hour trip to Karratha - our nearest 'shopping town' - a couple of times, just for a change of scenery. Although when DH announced, following a couple of circuits around the ugly, industrial, broken-pavemented eyesore, that it was a 'lovely little town,' it struck me that we'd been away from civilisation for too long.
But I'm not complaing. The children have quickly become feral, and play out until twilight, often requiring a search and rescue team to recover them when it gets too dark. As soon as they finish their school day, they joyfully kick off their shoes and run barefoot to the playground or skate park.
And we have a constant stream of children running through the house, all equally barefoot and feral.
I can honestly say I've learned more about Australia since I got here than I did during the year I spent in Perth. Being in a small community can force you to get up close and personal with your surroundings, engaging you in a way that would be impossible in an anonymous city.
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| The Pilbara |
Learning stuff I didn't know...
I've been lucky enough to find a small amount of paid work from the local magazine, which has meant having to learn pretty quickly about all sorts of odd things. For example, when my editor emailed me some notes and asked me to write up a short piece about the NAIDOC celebrations, my first question was, 'what on earth is NAIDOC?'
Having read her notes, this question was quickly followed by, 'and what is a damper-making competition?'
'What is a Welcome to Country ceremony?'
'What is pindan dirt?'
'What is spinifex?'
'Can you use the word Aboriginal, or is it more PC to say Indigenous?'
(OK I didn't ask her all those questions, I looked them up on Wikipedia, I didn't want to talk myself out of a job.)
Anyway, in case you're wondering, NAIDOC is the National Aboriginies and Islanders Day Observance Committee, and is celebrated for a week every July. It acknowledges the contribution made by the Indigenous people and celebrates their culture. It's a big thing up here in the Pilbara, and every town has some sort of event to celebrate it. Perhaps they did something down in Perth, but I simply don't remember...
| Damper being made... |
The Welcome to Country is a ceremony used at the start of official meetings, launches or other occasions, and involves acknowledging the traditional custodians of the land. An Indigenous person performs the protocol, by either song, dance, speech or ceremony.
Pindan dirt is the blood red dirt you see up here in the Pilbara. It gets everywhere! Our silver grey rug which I lovingly bought in Abu Dhabi is now beige.
Spinifex is the spiky pale grass you see everywhere around here. It's almost silver in a particular light.
As for what to call the first settlers in Australia, well the jury is out it seems and depends not just on who you talk to, but where you are in the country. Some consider 'Aboriginal' insulting, choosing instead 'Indigenous' or even 'Aboriginal and Torres Straight Islanders', or in some cases, the politically incorrect 'blackfellas', but it seems that the people themselves are quite happy with 'Aborigine'.
The Warlu Way
All around this part of the world, there are signs for the Warlu Way. I was curious about this - what did it mean, since some of the signs simply point into the bush? I did a little digging and managed to write a short piece about it for the magazine, but they didn't use it in the end, so rather than let it go to waste, thought I'd share it here.
The Warlu Way weaves its mystical pathway
across 2,500 km of remote and rugged landscapes through the Gascoye, Pilbara
and Kimberly regions.
The Warlu (pronounced Wah-loo) comes from the
Aboriginal dreaming of a giant sea serpent – or Warlu – named Barrimirndi, who
emerged from the sea at Coral Bay and meandered his way across the land,
forming waterways as he went.
According to the legend, Barrimirndi had become
angry with two boys who had cooked and eaten a Gurdarnkurdarn (Mulga parrot),
and, following the smell of the singed feathers, he went in search of the boys.
Travelling underground, the creature wove his way up the route of the Fortescue
River, cutting gorges and rivers into the landscape.
Every now and then, Barrimirndi would break
through the earth to the surface to check the scent of the trail, creating a
waterhole, before disappearing back down below to continue his subterranean
journey.
He reached his destination at Jirndawurrunha
(Millstream), and coming up at Nhanggangunha (Deep Reach Pool), he discovered
the boys.
Barrimirndi raised the boys up into a wananggaa
(willy willy) where they were hit with flying sticks which broke their arms,
leaving them useless. When they fell to the ground he swallowed them whole.
The local people wept and tried to pull the
boys from the stomach of the serpent with sticks, but to no avail. Returning to
their camp by the river bed, they wept some more. Angered by this, Barrimirndi
rose and drowned them in a flood of water.
The legend goes that the spirit serpent still
lurks in that same rock pool he created at Nhanggangunha, and the Yinjibarndi
people believe you must approach it in the correct way or you will be harmed.
Firstly, when entering the pool you must take a handful of water to your mouth,
then spit it out and call out ‘nguru’
to let the serpent know of your presence and that you respect the land.
Traditional Yinjibarndi elders must do this
first, to explain to the spirit who the strangers with them are, asking that
they too are protected. The Yinjibarndi people also warn visitors not to stand
so close that their shadow crosses the hole created by Barrimirndi - when he
broke through the earth – for fear he might be disturbed and take them.
The Warlu Way is now an inspiring drive which
takes you from Ningaloo’s most southern tip, through breathtaking Karijini National
Park, with its stunning gorges and rock pools, and onto the equally stunning
Millstream-Chichester National Park.
The trail continues on to the Dampier
Archipelago, and up to the Burrup Peninsular, where the world’s oldest and
largest concentration of petro glyphs (ancient rock art) is to be found. It
finishes its journey on the white sands of Broome – the gateway to the
Kimberley.
