7 June
Elmira
Sunny, mid 80s
(14880 steps on 22 May)
It is quite difficult to complete these last two entries. There are three reasons for this. First, I've moved on, thinking about my summer projects, beginning my planning for the next academic year, and getting back into my family life. Second, the events are fading into the past for me, and I fear that I'm forgetting something important.
The most important reason, though, is that I am under no pressure to quickly knock out a journal entry. When I am writing while in Australia, I am always at an internet station, and am paying for my time. There's no such pressure here, snug in my own house. I am not even online as I write this -- I'll paste it into the entry window when I log on later. So, I can correct spelling mistakes and rewrite passages I don't like, all of which takes much longer to do.
Ah, well -- such problems to have! Life must be good indeed. Back to the Outback …
I usually wake up very early when camping. I'm not sure what gets me out of my sleeping bag, but I do enjoy seeing the stars in the wee hours. The early morning was still hazy, though the moon was low enough in the sky so that the moon ring was gone. And there were enough clear patches so that it was possible to see some of the constellations, though the galactic center would never really be visible during the trip.
The camp resort at Yulara was very well appointed; some of the students actually complained a little bit in their journals that we had too many luxuries -- like showers and toilets. Speaking for myself, I am perfectly fine with camping out and roughing it, but I'll take my luxuries where I find them. The showers were very nice and warm.
We were supposed to leave camp in the dark and get to Uluru before sunrise so that we could see the Rock again change colors, but we couldn't -- our bus battery was dead. We settled for a nearby viewing spot -- I think some of the other campers were a little disconcerted that 36 college students showed up at an otherwise quiet observation platform, but the students were quite well-behaved.
Our tour guide did get someone to come and give us a jump, so we were soon on our way to Uluru. Our morning consisted of a walk most of the way around the Rock, a guided tour on the remainder, and a visit to the Anangu Cultural Centre.
Our walk around was unguided -- a little unfortunate, since there are many sights along the way about which I would like to ask questions. I think that we'll discuss that when we plan next year's course. Now, an explanation of everything at the Rock would be a lot, and there are some things that probably could not be explained, owing to their religious significance (and hence secretiveness). Still, leaving us on our own without a context limited our enjoyment of the Rock to the 7.4 kilometers of the portion we walked -- and perhaps the sound of a bird call or two, when people were quiet.
On a long walk like this with a group as large as ours, the students tend to spread out, so I walked on ahead, telling students that they should walk slower than me. That gave me the chance to get to the Mutitjulu site before they did, so that I could direct them to it. This site, a short ways into a cleft in the Rock, contains a water source, and several overhangs under which Aboriginal drawings can be seen on the walls. Uluru is an important sacred site, certainly, but it also served many practical purposes, and its massive size lets even the faraway traveler know where it is. It thus served as an important gathering place for the Anangu. Here, they could use some overhangs and/or caves as classrooms, nurseries, kitchens, infirmaries, and other areas useful to a village. The Mutitjulu area illustrates most of these, but the most important thing about it is the water source. Uluru's sandstone is quite porous, and so it acts as a giant sponge. It's one of the most reliable water sources in the region, and Mutitjulu is the headwater.
After our walk around, we met at the base of the rock climb. It's a little unfortunate that the rock climb even exists -- climbing Uluru is not only disrespectful to the Anangu, it is also dangerous. The Anangu elders have set specific conditions under which the climb must be closed. It cannot be open when the winds are too strong, when the temperature is too high, or when it is raining. The park must also close the climb when an Aboriginal elder dies, and the climb must remain closed during the mourning period. It is a testament to the power of the tourism industry in Australia that the climb remains open at other times. The Anangu men only climb it as a part of a sacred ritual, and don't want anyone else to do so. My guess is that keeping it open was a compromise forced upon the Anangu when they negotiated for reinstatement of their land rights.
Nonetheless, people do climb the Rock. They walk right past the signs put up by the Anangu asking them not to do so. Several students asked me how tourists could climb the Rock after reading the signs asking them not to. I think it's actually easy enough to understand -- it's an intriguing prospect, climbing up high, getting probably one of the best views there is on the planet, conquering the Rock, … and there aren't any elders nearby to scold you for doing it. While we were waiting for everyone to arrive for the guided portion of the walk, Joseph (one of the Aboriginal kids along with us) asked me if I would climb the Rock, and I said no. I then asked him if he would climb, and he did not hesitate -- yes, he would. I don't think there was any hint of disrespect in his attitude; he was reacting purely to the excitement of the place.
After we had all gathered and our tour guide had rejoined us, we went on the Mala walk, a shorter walk along the remaining side of Uluru we had not yet passed. We went past caves and overhangs in which the Anangu would gather for specific purposes -- one area might be a nursery, another might be a cave reserved for elders, a third overhang might be a kitchen. It's much like the Mutitjulu area.
There might be four or five such areas at the base of the Rock. It could thus serve as a meeting place for hundreds, perhaps thousands. In its time, it was probably quite a lively spot, like one of our county fairs or a large family reunion. It's probably not possible for it to be used this way anymore, and that's too bad -- I imagine it was fun.
After our tour of Uluru, we went over to the Cultural Centre, a few kilometers away. This is a place where the Anangu tell their story of the Rock -- and where the inevitable souvenir and food shops are located. It has changed very little from the previous years, though a few elders pictured in the Centre are now covered who weren't before, and there do not seem to be new elders replacing them at the same rate. I should explain that after a person dies, their name is not used, and no images of them are to be shown. This forbidden period lasts as long as the family is in mourning, so it may be years before they can be spoken about again or their images can be viewed. This is not unique to the Anangu; it appears to be true in most Aboriginal cultures -- in fact, it's a practice elsewhere in the world, too.
That elders would die is not what troubles me; that's natural and expected. But that there are fewer and fewer young Aboriginal men and women to take their place is very troubling. But, it's not for me to judge -- it must be hard to keep true to an indigenous culture amid the media blitz that characterizes our times. I hope that they find a way to sustain their identity.
We returned to Yulara for a quick lunch, then packed the coach and headed off to King's Creek Station, where we would camp for the night. Our tour guide played two videos for us as we traveled. The first was called Last of the Nomads, which told the story of an Aboriginal couple whose marriage was against tribal law. They fled into the bush, and were not seen again for many years, until drought and famine raised the concern of their families enough for them to mount a search to find them. They were indeed found, though they were ill and starving. The elders of the village took them in, but both passed away after a few years. It was very sad, but redemptive in some way -- they stayed true to their love throughout, though it went against everything that they knew.
The second video was called Bush Mechanics. I think this was an episode from an Australian television series produced by the Aborigines who live in the Alice Springs area. It is a little hard to describe -- if you've seen The Gods Must Be Crazy, you have a point of reference. The plot line is that four Aboriginal men go to incredible lengths to keep a car running that continues to break down. When a tire goes flat, they stuff it full of spinifex grass. When a wheel breaks off, they use a tree as a runner to replace the wheel. When the clutch burns out, they make a new one out of gum wood! The show is filled with tricks like that, as well as stories from elders about their experiences with cars and trucks from many years ago. It is very funny. (While shopping at the end of our stay, I found a DVD with four other episodes from the series, so I've had a chance to see a little more of it. This series is worth checking out; they do have a website -- I'll look for the link, but if you search on Bush Mechanics you will find it quickly enough.)
We arrived at Kings Creek Station late in the afternoon. We have camped there before, but this time, we were in the main camp, not the remote bush camp miles back in the came paddock. It was a change, and I think it disappointed my senior colleague, who was looking forward to his bush shower -- again, I've roughed it enough to appreciate when I don't have to. Our evening camp made, we fixed our dinner, and settled down for the night, waiting to go to Watarrka the next day.
There is one final item about this day. During the day, I had a few chances to talk with Gary about his work, and asked him if he would mind telling our students about what he does. Around the campfire, he spoke for almost an hour about his work with young Aboriginal men like Hank, trying to reestablish their connection with their culture. He talked about the Stolen Generation, the healing required, and his organization's part in it. He talked about the government funding (and sometimes the lack of funding) for the programs, and how it hung by a thread. He talked about Australian's indigenous peoples learning from the Native Americans about return-to-nature programs to help people recovering from drug addiction and alcoholism.
I know how difficult it is for a speaker to hold the attention of college-aged students -- I've had my share of successes and failures at it. But Gary was able to hold their interest for all that time -- and he was speaking entirely off-the-cuff. It was quite impressive. My hope is that we'll be able to use him as a resource in future courses. It's just good to inject a little reality into the course, and get past the tourism industry and the media.
