Читать книгу The First Boomerang - Paul Bryden - Страница 11

Along Todd Mall Aboriginal Art galleries overflow with bright, multi-coloured dot-style paintings. They represent the world’s latest art movement which only began in the 1970s, and first-time visitors stare at the exquisite designs on canvas and ponder their meanings. Few know that these captivating artworks symbolically depict Central Australian landscapes they have flown over or driven through. Or that others tell personal stories or Dreamings of traditional custodians, men and women they may walk past in the street.

Rob visited five galleries in the Mall before leaving its southern end and crossing Gregory Terrace. Continuing on Todd Street for almost a block he passed Desert Oak Tours, Outback Camping Safaris and Arunta Art Gallery & Book Shop, before discovering the Aboriginal Red Ochre Gallery. Displayed on its front brick wall was a sign advertising daily cultural tours and didgeridoo lessons.

“Hello there...” Rob offered in a friendly manner as he walked in.

Inside the stone-floored gallery, an older Aboriginal man was showing paintings to a young woman at the tile-topped counter.

“Morning, howya going,” the manager replied, as both she and the artist greeted him with a smile and nod of the head.

The Aboriginal artist was talking about his works and they caught Rob’s eye. The major local contemporary style was dot painting, but these were different. They were landscapes of Central Australia, true-to-life watercolours with ghost gums, distant purple hills and rugged rocky outcrops, evoking the Outback perfectly. Rob was familiar with this classic style because he owned several similar paintings, so he walked closer and commented.

“I love those colours, that clarity of light, the aura around the gum trees. They’re beautiful. I feel at home just looking at them.”

Rob felt comfortable in saying this to the Aboriginal artist and the older man turned to him and warmly acknowledged the compliment.

“Thanks. Thanks brother. I’m happy you’ve come.”

Rob sensed something deeper about the greeting and also responded warmly.

“My name’s Rob, I hope we can talk about your paintings while I’m in town.”

“I’m Lindsay, but most call me ‘Uncle’ or ‘the Elder.’ Have you come far?”

“Yeah, from New York, but I’m Aussie.”

“Good. Welcome. Let’s catch up after I finish.”

As well as dark jeans, leather riding boots and a long-sleeved flannelette shirt, patterned with small red and blue squares, the artist wore a fawn-coloured Akubra hat. The hand-made band was decorated with very small painted dots, and a solid silver heart about the size of a thumb nail was attached to its left side. Like any good hat, it became the man, and because of contrast, his grey sideburns looked even more distinguished.

The Elder and manager continued their discussion while Rob started to explore the Gallery, but after only fifteen minutes the Elder approached Rob and caught his eye.

“Thanks for waiting. Let’s go if you’re ready...”

They walked out of the Aboriginal Red Ochre Gallery, crossed Todd Street and sat down on short green grass in the shade of a tall, white-trunked eucalyptus tree. Taking off his hat and placing it on the ground, the Elder said...

“Welcome to Mparntwe or Mbantua, the Arrernte or Aranda name for Alice Springs. My full name’s Lindsay Williams and I was born in Western Aranda country. Do you know Albert Namatjira? He was a Western Aranda man.”

“Yeah, of course,” Rob smiled confidently. “The first Aboriginal person to paint Outback landscapes with watercolours back in the 1930s, 40s and 50s.”

“Uncle Albert was gifted,” the Elder added. “He showed city people our country’s real heart and spirit for the first time. And even met the Queen.”

“Yeah, he was the best.” Rob continued. “Isn’t there a permanent exhibition of his paintings in town?”

“It’s up at Araluen. Try and see it if you can.”

“I will for sure,” Rob confirmed, then asked, “What about your art?”

“I’ve been doing watercolours on and off for forty years. Started by myself with an uncle’s help, but now there’s a mob of us who love the style and want to keep the tradition going. Like Albert I’m from out near Hermannsburg, the old Lutheran Church Mission. We call it Ntaria and it’s about 125kms west on a good bitumen road. Do you know that country?”

“Yeah, in a way. Central Australia always feels familiar,” Rob replied.

“Albert’s also honoured by Namatjira Drive. It branches off Larapinta Drive heading west and provides access to the superb gorges of the West Macs. You’d love it.”

“Maybe I can get out there,” Rob said, adding: “Do you do other work?”

“I’m a senior lecturer at the Faculty of Aboriginal Development, or FAD, so I live in town these days. It’s connected to the Northern Territory University in Darwin. Have you heard of it?”

“No, but it sounds interesting,” Rob replied.

“I’ve got to get back to the office soon, but we must talk again while you’re in town. I can meet late tomorrow afternoon on Anzac Hill (Atnelkentyarliweke) – there’s a great view of country in all directions.”

“I’d love to,” Rob said. “But I’ll have to say ‘Anzac Hill’ because your name’s too hard!”

“I know what you mean. Our languages are very difficult. I’m an old timer and I still prefer the spelling Aranda because people can pronounce it when they see it.”

“Okay, I’ll do the same. And thanks so much for the invite. I’ll be there.”

They got to their feet and shook hands, and Rob walked away quickly to the Heart of Australia Resort across a road bridge over the Todd River, shaking his head happily. He knew instinctively that Lindsay from Western Aranda country was the Aboriginal elder he’d been hoping to find for years. And suddenly it had happened.

The meeting was inspiring for the Elder too. As he walked steadily back to his faculty office he acknowledged within that Rob had come at precisely the right time. With insight as clear as the blue skies of his watercolours he knew Rob would gain important knowledge and be guided on a journey of discovery.

* * *

Earlier that morning at the Resort Rob picked up a message from Dr Hugo Ableford, leader of the Rock Art group, expressing his wish to discuss the expedition. The plan was to meet at a restaurant in an arcade off Todd Mall, so Rob wrote a quick note saying “See you there” and left it at Reception. Both men were looking forward to catching up in person because they had not seen each other since Rob flew to London three years earlier.

“Great to see you. How’s New York?” Hugo asked, raising his eyebrows in anticipation as they warmly shook hands.

“Wonderful. So much energy in one corner of the planet. Who knows how it all keeps going.” Rob replied. “Now I’m back, I’d much rather be here. The Centre does something for me.” He added with understatement.

The two men had met for lunch at The Desert Oak which offered more international cuisine than local bush tucker, but all was homemade and delicious. Rob ordered Thai fish cakes, rice balls with cheese in the middle and green salad, while Hugo selected a wholesome chicken and vegetable soup served with hot multi-grain bread rolls and butter.

They took it in turns to catch up with each other’s activities of the past few years, and after finishing their tasty food, Hugo told Rob the Rock Art group’s plans.

“In the morning we’re going out on a good dirt road to the Ewaninga site. Do you know it? There’s hundreds of well-preserved petroglyphs in a protected area, and we’ll be back by one or two o’clock. There’s ten in the group and most want to go shopping and have a look around town. You’re welcome to come.”

“I’d like to, I’ve never been there.” Rob said.

“Then in two and a half days we’re off. As you know, it’s to Yuendumu first up the Tanami Track, on to Halls Creek and Fitzroy Crossing, then across to Broome. After the old pearling town we take on the Gibb River Road and eventually reach Kununurra and Timber Creek. Then we’ll head south into the VRD. Our co-leader actually rediscovered a lot of the art, and we’ll be the first group to see it.”

“That’s epic,” Rob interrupted. “How many people get that opportunity. I know it’s taken a lot of organising.”

“A couple of years Rob, so it’s very good that you were able to come back,” Hugo said genuinely. “You got the last seat, too!”

“Thanks to you. Your phone call really got me going. You must’ve known I’ve been talking to the Outback stars!” Rob winked and continued. “The Outback’s always felt close since I first came through in the ‘90s. I don’t think I need the big cities now. Oh, and I met an Aboriginal artist, we’re meeting tomorrow afternoon. I’ll tell you about it later.”

They finished their coffee, agreed to ‘go dutch’ with the bill for old time’s sake, then as they stood up Hugo added...

“I’m so pleased you’ve made it, and you’re looking well too. We’re all in the same Resort, so that makes it easy. Let’s talk tomorrow, but if you’re coming to Ewaninga we’re meeting for breakfast at eight in the dining room and departing about nine.”

“Sounds good. It’s fantastic to be here,” Rob smiled, shaking Hugo’s hand. “Seeya later.” He was so happy to link up with Hugo and the Rock Art group after so much anticipation and his long flight.

* * *

Rob planned to watch sunset from a rocky hill near the Resort, but as the afternoon unfolded, the western sky turned dark blue. Threatening storm clouds built up and rapidly approached Alice Springs. Jagged shafts of bolt lightning struck the countryside and thunder rumbled loud and long. This type of storm usually occurred in Summer so its abrupt arrival on a Winter’s day was surprising. Suddenly an unusual thought popped into Rob’s mind. Could its spectacular show be a sign from the Universe that meeting the Elder was an auspicious event? Rob had read enough about traditional Aboriginal life to know that unexplained things happened, but he was not sure if this was one of them.

* * *

On the following morning Hugo, Rob and the group drove to Ewaninga Conservation Reserve on a rusty red dirt road, firm and dust-free after the previous night’s heavy showers. At the site they found hundreds of symbols pecked into large slabs of tan-brown sandstone, and the marked walking track presented opportunities for close-up viewing and photography. The atmosphere was still, there was no one else around and everything seemed straight forward until Hugo gestured to the group to come close, saying precisely and without introduction.

“This site embodies a mystery!”

Everyone standing around him eagerly focused on his next words.

“Even though Ewaninga’s been studied for years, the petroglyphs have never been explained publicly. Senior custodians hold the knowledge of these rock carvings but will not reveal their meaning because it would be too dangerous!”

An instant buzz of conversation swept around the group, but Hugo, not wanting to answer any questions, said with a chuckle.

“Let’s talk about it later, around a campfire under the stars somewhere.”

This site visit was just a warm-up for the big Rock Art trip ahead, but already the group had been confronted with a puzzle. For Rob it came soon after his unusual thoughts about the Universe and the unseasonal storm, so he made a written note then finished his video recording and photography. Then he and the group returned to the Resort with an ancient, yet modern-day mystery fresh in their minds.

A brisk morning of about six degrees Celsius had become 24 degrees after lunch, as group members set out on foot to explore the famous town. Some walked through the sandy Todd River bed, others took the road bridge, all eventually meeting at Ghost Gums Bar & Grill for dinner. Later that afternoon was also the time when Rob and the Elder were to meet on Anzac Hill, and the natural atmosphere was changing.

* * *

The stormy, windy weather of the previous day had flung up a sky of long, wispy clouds, and thin beams of sunlight caught and coloured their tails a rich, burnt orange. The men had not arranged a time to meet but despite neither of them wearing a watch, they arrived at the bottom of Anzac Hill on Wills Terrace at the same time. As they walked up the track the elongated clouds brightened into a deep, desert red, becoming light-hearted scarves on a fading blue sky. Such colour promised another warm day in Central Australia. Sunset would not linger this afternoon because of Winter, so as soon as they made it to the top and were sitting on a wide seat facing the MacDonnell Ranges, the Elder asked an unexpected question.

“Do you know what tjurunga or churinga are?”

A little surprised by the subject matter, because he did know, Rob answered.

“They’re sacred objects that link individuals to their Ancestors in spirit, and are only brought out at special times, like initiation ceremonies.”

The Western Aranda elder nodded approvingly and seemed to confirm by the dancing light in his eyes that the right man had come. The Universe as usual was on course and on time!

Rob was encouraged by the comfortable energy and continued.

“I’ve been interested in sacred tjurunga for years without telling anyone. In England I visited a Museum and was shown small, wooden tjurunga and bullroarers with similar markings. I was in the basement wearing white gloves so the physical condition of each artefact wouldn’t be damaged. Yet I was holding an object representing the spiritual link of a traditional man to the source of his life! What a privilege, but I didn’t fully realise it. I couldn’t interpret the incised designs, but I’ve been researching tjurunga quietly ever since.”

Rob paused as he reflected on that episode, and the Elder commented straight away.

“Your intentions had integrity and Ancestor Spirits were watching. Handling the objects respectfully opened a deeper window to culture.”

Rob nodded thoughtfully as the Elder added historical perspective.

“In early contact times some whitefellas who stole, or collected sacred objects as they called it, didn’t know what they were handling. But others did and removed our objects like conquerors. They weren’t interested in the ceremonial life of “primitive natives”. They only wanted curios of their adventures in the new British colonies in the South Seas.”

Yet despite blatant disregard for Aboriginal cultures and the violence perpetrated against them for generations, the Elder believed positive changes in attitudes were growing across the world.

“Many more are becoming aware and learning that Aboriginal groups have the spiritual connections to the land, sea and sky that they want to experience. They realise that traditional cultures offer valuable perspectives about life and nature.”

Then the Elder turned and looked directly at Rob.

“You’ve travelled conscious spiritual paths for many lifetimes and returned to an old home. You’ve come back to receive information because the Ancestors know you can help reveal it to an awakening world. That’s why we’ve met. That’s why I said in the Gallery, ‘Thanks brother. I’m happy you’ve come.’ I knew you were the right man.”

A natural break in the Elder’s wise words gave Rob the chance to venture his thoughts.

“I didn’t expect you to be so universal in outlook. People usually think particular groups hold particular knowledge, so they’d expect you to share Aboriginal knowledge only, and not other philosophies. How long have you thought like this?”

The sinking sun was colouring orange the few elongated clouds that hovered beyond Mount Gillen (Alhekulyele), its distinctive, familiar outline bathed in dark blue shadow as the Elder answered.

“The spiritual journey’s similar whatever tradition we’re born into. Race, colour, and language make things seem different, but the wisdom of all cultures belongs to everyone. That’s my belief. I belong to my Aboriginal heritage and went through some of the Law, but I also respect other cultures. I’ve read about them for years. Everything from Buddhism and Taoism to the Mayans and Aztecs, Ancient Egypt, Christianity and more – you’d be fascinated by my library. My sense of peoples’ Oneness is strong. Around the earth the same themes appear in legends and so-called mythology, so it’s natural to feel part of the whole world.”

“That’s a wonderful outlook,” Rob acknowledged.

Now much clearer about the Elder’s philosophy, he knew he would gain much greater understandings if they spent more time together.

“Yeah, I suspected there were connections between Aboriginal cultures, but I was touched most when I realised that all Humanity is spiritually One. We’re all brothers and sisters in heart and spirit. But not enough of us recognize it.”

The Elder was nodding slowly in agreement, at peace with himself and the world, as Rob continued.

“It’s so good to be sitting here. I’d forgotten how much I need this level of conversation. Life floods my soul when I share like this. But I’ve got a problem. I’m booked to go on a Rock Art Expedition in thirty six hours, but I want more of this!”

“Listen to your inner truth, the answer’s already there,” the Elder suggested.