Bellowing Cattle and Ceremonial Paint

Something strange was going on with the cattle last night.  When cattle are left to run wild, they retain their natural instincts.  Not like those placid domesticated cattle.  These beasts are wild animals that are herded up only once a year to be sent to market.

They started bellowing around sundown.  Their calls were frantic, sustained and incredibly loud.  It went on for hours into the night.  Was a dingo stalking their calves?  Was it some mating ritual amongst the males?  I guess we’ll never know.

Simon (my seven year old student) came to my house in the afternoon to give me a bug.  His entire body was painted with a white, powdery substance.  I had to ask.  Was it some aboriginal ritual that was taking place, but because it was “men’s business”, I hadn’t been invited?  Was it an “end of wet season” ceremony?  Was it a spirit dance to chase away the same dingo that had been chasing the cattle?

Nope.  He had been bitten by an itchy grub which had made him break out in a rash.  His Mum had covered him in calamine lotion.

Maybe there is a simple explanation for the cattle bellowing all night as well.

Hunting, Gathering and Air conditioning

There have been some issues with the power generator and my little house gets like an oven when the sun hit’s the glass doors.  I have air conditioning in every room, so usually this isn’t a problem, but without power it was going to get pretty warm inside.

The father decided to take the family (along with me and two French woofers) fishing for fresh water prawns at a nearby lake.  The area is still part of a working cattle station, so there are cows everywhere, but the little lakes are covered in water lilies and surrounded by old gnarled gum trees. 

It seems throwing a weighted fishing net is quite a skill.  I almost got the hang of it and did manage to catch a couple of the enormous fresh water prawns that fill the lake.  We came back with a whole bucket full.

On the drive back to the house, the father stopped at a tree to show us the medicinal qualities of the bark.  When he got near the trunk, he realized that the tree was buzzing with the hive of the local, stingless honey bee.  We must have spent the best part of an hour attacking the tree, prodding our poking sticks into the hive and devouring the delicious honey and royal jelly.  We broke off a branch full of honey comb to bring home.

In the afternoon we waded back across the Fitzroy River and built a campfire on the bank.  We roasted our prawns on the fire and then buried some wild ducks in the hot sand with the coals and sat by the river waiting for them to cook.  The meat was delicious, very dark and not fatty (although it was a little sandy).

I think I could get used to this hunting and gathering lifestyle (especially when there is also air conditioning).

First day of school

The first day of school.  The kids had been busting to come back to school and very excited to have a new teacher.  For days they had been coming into my little house and rummaging through the school set work for the next week.

The School of the Air have a “Morning Muster” where all the students in the school log into an air lesson and say hello.  Because yesterday was ANZAC day, they did the traditional sounding of the Last Post and a minutes silence.

The set work theme for the next two weeks is “Bugs and Creepy Crawlies” (my favorite).  So we went out on a bug hunt with our little specimen jars and chased down insects around the homestead.

If the sharks don't get you, the crocs will

Wading across the swiftly running Fitzroy River full of crocodiles and bull sharks seemed to be a good way to spend the afternoon.  Everyone else was doing it!!  The water was moving pretty fast, but even at the deepest part, the water was only chest high.  The water is falling about 7cm a day now that the rains have stopped.  Within a couple of weeks it will be barely a stream.  At the moment the river is still 100 meters wide and beautifully warm and clear.

In Case of Emergency

The Royal Flying Doctor Service came by today.  While the property doesn’t have an airstrip for the Flying Doctors’ plane to land, it is close enough to Broome that it is within helicopter range.  They provide each station with a huge medical chest full of everything that could possibly be needed in a medical emergency - prescription drugs, non-prescription drugs, injection equipment, bandages, etc etc.  Once a year the Flying Doctors make a home visit where they go through the box, give the people at the station training on how to use it, and check for expired medications (and make sure the morphine hasn’t mysteriously gone missing).

The Flying Doctors trainers came in the form of a retired nurse and her husband who travel around the Kimberley and do the rounds of the remote stations.  They are often on the road for ten days at a time and camping by the side of the road.

Since I am now officially the back-up if anything goes wrong, I got to sit in on the training.  Around the “out-door kitchen table” we methodically went through the whole medical chest, the procedures for getting over-the-phone prescriptions for the medications, how to give injections, how the treat a snake bit, how to give CPR.  In the end I got a lovely certificate AND a free mini first aide kit.  Oh, and I know what to do in an emergency, but the free mini first aide kit was the best bit.

Meeting the Teachers

The family drove back to the camp on Sunday.  It takes about 2 hours from Broome, half on sealed roads, half on red dirt track.  We arrived at the camp just as the sun was going down and I was shown my new home.  A fully equipped one bedroom donga (trailer) with the living room used as the classroom.  It’s nice to have my own little place again.  I rapidly went about making myself at home and rearranging everything.

I had pictured the camp being right on the river.  In a way it is.  In flood the water can come right up to the camp.  However in dry season the river is about one kilometer from the house.  The wet season has just come to and end and the river is quickly receding.  The mosquitoes are out in force.  At the moment I look a bit like the mosquitoes have been using me as a pin cushion.  We saw the first dragonflies today.  They eat all the mosquito larva and it is the signal for the beginning of the dry.

There is also a plague of green tree frogs.  It’s important to check the loo before sitting.  There are usually two or three hiding in the bowl and it seems cruel to do your business on their heads.  Besides, they could jump on your bum when you least expect it.  That could create a very bad scene.

On Monday morning I first saw the camp in daylight.  It was also the morning that all the teachers from the School of the Air were arriving for a “Cultural Awareness Seminar” that is being run by the father and mother.  The father is half local aborigine and half Timorese.  The mother is Maltese from Melbourne.  They have literally written the book on cultural reconciliation and responsible development (just about to be published).

The teachers were very young and enthusiastic.  There were a couple of old-timers who have been at the school since the beginning of time, but most of them were completely new to this part of the country and School of the Air. The Principal is 25 years old.  Fifty percent of the students are aboriginal.

We all piled in the bus and went to the traditional meeting place in the bush near the springs.  It’s where the different aboriginal groups have met for hundreds of years to discuss problems and conduct trade.  Under a big tree we set up plastic chairs and had a chat about the issues the teachers were having with getting the aboriginal students and their families to participate in school and school activities.  We were all getting eaten by mosquitoes and sand flies, so we adjourned to the brand new, air conditioned conference center near the house where tea and coffee (and comfy chairs) were readily available.

I have come to this part of the country knowing very little about indigenous affairs and how the aboriginal community really lives in the modern world.  I’ve learned a lot already.

Meeting the family

I arrived in Broome a couple of days ago.   This trip has been a long time in the planning (and de-planning and re-planning).  It took about six months from the time I was first offered the job until I actually got here.  The family was waiting for me at Broome airport and the kids gave me a big hug and asked me what they should call me.

There was a family wedding on the beach in Broome the night I got there.  It was a very small event and I’m sure some of the family thought I was some nosy tourist taking photos.  They were very nice about it and very friendly.  They all wanted to give me a rundown on who was who, which was very complicated because they use the aboriginal relationship naming system.   I was trying to work out how a five year old could be someone’s mother.  For women, your sisters’ children become your children and they call you mother.  For men, it’s your brothers’ children who call you father.  Therefore some (but not all) of your cousins become your brother or sister.  If you have much older siblings, you can actually be born a mother.

The reception was at the Broome Fishing Club and since the groom was Indian, there was a huge spread of  Indian food provided by the groom’s mother.  Dessert was pavlova and trifle and chocolate cake.  It was very low key affair, but had all the traditional wedding touches like the throwing of the bouquet, the cutting of the cake and the first dance.

There is a huge extended family, but there is a rift between one side of the family that is pro-development and the other side which is pro-conservation.  So a lot of the family didn’t turn up in protest (they must be the protesting side of the family).

The family is full of crazy characters and prominent aboriginal activists.  I was told the story of a relative who won the Order of Australia and promptly dropped dead from cancer a year later.  She had never heard of the Order of Australia and didn’t know what the big whoop was.  Others are on the boards of various aboriginal councils.

Everyone at the reception was dripping in the most exquisite pearls.   Most of the male members of the family had worked in the pearling industry and one of the daughters runs a big pearl shops in town.