Week Four

The last week has been a massive cultural rollercoaster, but one that I'm glad I have been on. I now feel completely embraced by the Warruwi community. Almost a local or as much as a local that a non-indigenous could feel I guess.

The week began on a sad note. A young boy passed away during the wet season and the community is now having a funeral or 'sorry time' for him. As he was a student at Warruwi School, the entire school community has been involved in the funeral traditions. At precisely 1.45pm on Tuesday afternoon all students at the school were piled into the troopie and other Council 4WDs to meet the plane carrying the coffin at the airstrip. To ward off spirits of the dead everyone was painted with clay on any exposed skin, so my arms, legs and face was streaked with clay. The students and all the teachers sat in silence and waited the plane's arrival. Once it had touched down on the tarmac and started to taxi over to the bus stop that is Warruwi airport, the women began wailing and crying.

As the coffin was lifted out of the plane by men, the students formed two lines. The coffin was then carried down these two lines and placed in the back of the troopie. The men then gathered to the front of the troopie and began singing, dancing and playing the didgeridoo and clapping sticks. A large red flag was placed on the front of the troopie, which was then held by an elder. The red flag symbolised the boy's country. Students then surrounded the car, with most clustering around trying to touch the car's body. We began a sad and relatively silent funeral procession to the funeral grounds.

We walked through the community with the men playing music, singing and dancing and the troopie blasting it's horn every so often to tell others in the community that the boy had arrived.

Once we reached the funeral grounds again the students formed two lines. The coffin was then lifted out of the troopie and carried to the pandanus and eucalyptus hut. This hut was built for the purpose of holding the coffin for the two week funeral or sorry time before the actual burial. The ground of the funeral grounds is actually sand brought from another part of the island. This sand assists in the dancing or correborres that occur every night during this funeral.

The wailing of the women only intensified as the coffin was brought to the grounds, with some older women flinging themselves onto the sand. This physical outpouring of grief you may have seen in films about indigenous culture or even in the movie Australia.

The students and teachers then were asked to sit to the side, as one of the fathers of the young boy made a speech in Mawing. Of course I don't understand Mawing, but he said in English afterwards, something to effect of thanking us for coming and showing respect to his family, country and son. He then came up to the teachers and I and shaked our hands individually and told us to come to the nightly correborrees. I can only imagine he said similar words in Mawing.

We then left the funeral grounds.

I can only say that the Western way of 'carrying on' when dealing with death can learn a lot by this tradition. I remember when my nan passed, which was on a Sunday, I took Monday off work. But by Tuesday I was back at it. On the Thursday was her funeral. This was such a quick time between life and death. There was no lingering or allowing families and friends to process the event that had occurred. It was like reading a real good book and then just slamming it shut. We're told in English lessons at school to analyse the story to really appreciate it's meaning and I feel like there was limited opportunity for this to occur in the case of my nan. This sorry time, that I have been a relatively uninformed witness to, to me, allows for the processing of death and most importantly a celebration of life and culture. I remember only truly processing my nan's passing in Cologne, during a trip to Europe a few months later. Cologne is the origin for the perfume 7411. Well, that disgusting fragrance was nan's favourite. So in a tourist information centre seeing the advertisement and realising that I wouldn't be buying any for her, well that's when I processed her passing. It felt like a slap in the face.

On the Wednesday evening the teachers and I then attended the correborree. I can't say I really knew what was going on, but I'll do my best to describe the scenes to you. There was lots of singing, clapping sticks, didgeridoo playing and of course dancing. The men seemed to stamp and jump their way up to the hut, then to yell and run back to where they had come from. The women stood around this action swaying their arms in different forms depending on the dance. What I couldn't get over though, was these dances, this scene was not a sad scene. Children were running around and playing on the outer rims of the funeral grounds. Playing with balls and climbing all over eachother. A little girl who's pretty fond of me came running over and sat in my lap and then climbed all over me. I ended up tickling her. So here we were tickling, laughing, children running around and dogs fighting with eachother. In a way it seemed like a big BBQ with all your extended family. It was a joyous occassion, celebrating a short life.

Of course whilst sorry time was occurring the school was still open. Attendances were down understandably. Most children were up at the funeral grounds each night and needed a sleep. It was almost impossible doing work in the afternoons, the children were too tired! One boy in my class after lunch curled up into a ball and fell into a deep sleep. So deep that other students were running around, the vacuum was on and the last bell went and he was still snoozing. I had to shake him gently to wake him up, and he stretched looked around vacantly and wandered out of the classroom.

Regarding the one-on-one literacy program that we are here to implement, well it seems to be working well when the students come to school. The students I'm working with are gaining confidence and most importantly they are enjoying reading. Once they find out that reading isn't a chore and you can read some great stories in English, I think they will only just get better and better. For most students English is merely a third language to add to their linguistic repertoire.

On Thursday evening, the policeman Louie invited us to the station for pizza. He had returned from a weekend in Darwin to celebrate his son's birthday with probably the most important cargo to the island- junk food. Mmm I don't think I've ever appreciated a pizza more. It had been bought take away and then frozen for the plane trip.

On Friday evening, we were lucky enough to be taken shark fishing with Louie and the island's preachers Alan and Margo. We had a lovely campfire on the beach called Fletcher's Point, which as a side I found out today is known for its crocodiles. I then sat with my rod on a fold up chair (the luxury!) watching the sunset, the sky gradually turn pink and the stars coming out. With my little rod I caught two fish. They were beautiful fish, silver with gold lines down the body. They had a nasty mouth though, filled with sharp teeth. Now as everyone knows I don't eat any form of seafood. So I gave these two to Alan and Margo to say thanks for taking us out. By the time it had gotten dark and we could only see with the light of the moon we began to pull in the sharks. Louie was the first to pull in a 4ft black tipped reef shark. He then pulled in a 7ft wobbegong. It was huge and barely resembled the first shark. It looked slower and doopy. Louie then again pulled in a 3ft black tipped reef shark. The black tipped reef sharks are very vicious looking with their strong dorsal fin and sharp, sharp teeth. Louie was pulling in all these sharks using a hand reel by the way. So thinking that I could have a go, I got the hand reel out and promptly caught a baby shark. Barely 2ft the black tipped reef shark was a heavy bugger and I picked him up and released him (almost) all by myself. After about another 20mins I caught another 5ft black tipped reef shark. This one was so strong and had a good fight in him. I was being pulled down the beach and Louie had to grab hold of me at one stage! When we finally got him out of the drink Alan and Louie had difficulties getting the hook out, cause he was so determined to bite one of their hands off! I should mention that we put all the sharks back. We only kept my two little (in comparison) fish.

Yesterday was another hectic day. After a morning session of yoga, I went a visiting to the preachers. Margo unfortunately was burnt on Friday night, when the billy of boiling water for our tea was tipped on her leg. I wanted to check out how she was going and then also help with the making of Rosella Jam. You know the 'Wild Hibiscus' mixture sold at Australia Post or the Bottle-O? It's used to flavour gross, cheap champagne and costs $10 for a little jar? Well the actual flower is called a Rosella and is native to the top end. The flower has many uses including as a dye for pandanus weaving, as a spice and for making jam. The seed of the flower naturally contains pectin, the setting agent for jam. Jam-making with Margo turned into having a chat, lunch and then Louie coming over with Chinese chicken and corn soup. What a delicious meal and an absolutely lovely time! But the day's visiting adventures weren't over then. On student had seen me on Friday getting ready to go fishing and dropped over to see what we had caught. She and her friends then stayed and we ended up watching Bend It Like Beckham and eating Tiny Teddies.

They then invited me to the funeral correborree where they taught me to dance. Last night was the Elcho Island community's turn to pay respect to the young boy. The dances were more vibrant than what I had seen on Wednesday. The men were mock fighting eachother with red clothes. They also moved the red flag and the women had a more integral part in the dancing. Again there was a great feeling of joy, with children running around playing soccer!

This morning was the regular Sunday morning bike ride. I rode the 'Great Ocean Road' with the teachers. The Great Ocean Road goes from the west side of the island all the way to the south. We then had breakfast under the shade of pandanus. Looking at the vegetation though, it won't be long until the burning of the island begins. The grass doesn't stay green for long after the wet season ends. It dries out and turns brown. The community began burning the north, uninhabited part of the island on Friday.

That brings me up to the present, but before finishing, some great news! Aaron is coming to Warruwi for a visit! I leave here on Tuesday 21st June, so Aaron is coming over on Friday 17th June. That's the athletics carnival. He'll help out with that and then stay for the weekend. I'll show him around the island and then he'll work at the school on the Monday, before we depart together on the Tuesday. I'm so keen! We'll then go travelling in our van all throughout the Top End.

Till next week
xx

PS Croc watch: Still no crocs. Though from experience I am now assured that there are definitely lots of sharks in the surrounding seas...