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.