The land of eternal stories

This was not the standard map of Australia that I knew. I recognised the shape but not the way that it had been broken up.

“There are more than 500 different Aboriginal peoples across this country, with over 150 languages spoken,” explained Maria, my guide, as she pointed to the puzzle-like fragments of First Nations communities covering the continent. “While we share commonalities, we are many nations, all with distinct cultures, languages and traditions.”

It was dizzying to take them all in at once. As Maria highlighted the names of the different Aboriginal peoples represented in today’s Northern Territory alone, I realised there were myriad little-known histories running alongside the larger narrative of a country that I thought I knew.

“Right here, in Darwin, the Traditional Owners are the Larrakia people. They’ve been around for thousands of years – long before today’s city was built,” smiled Maria as we walked in front of the territorial capital’s colonial-styled, 19th-century Government House.

While people who identify as Aboriginal Australians make up only about 3% of the country’s modern population, that figure rises to 30% in the Northern Territory, which has long been a stronghold of Indigenous culture. Evidence uncovered by archaeologists has revealed that human habitation here goes back as far as 65,000 years.

“You’ll be witnessing what is perhaps the planet’s oldest continuously active civilisation,” foreshadowed Maria, an unexpected gravitas suddenly creeping into her voice.

Even having visited Australia twice before, I still knew little about its Indigenous peoples. Some cultural references were familiar, such as the ‘Dreaming’, the sounds of the didgeridoo, the vibrancy of dot-art paintings, but I had 65 millennia to catch up on. Over the two weeks I travelled across the Northern Territory, I looked to gain a deeper understanding of the Aboriginal worldview, their animistic connection to nature and the meaning behind their artistic expressions. Little did I expect that I would encounter such a wildly diverse land.

I began in Darwin, a well-manicured and easy-going tropical town home to over half of the territory’s 250,000 inhabitants. There is a lot of natural beauty to admire here: palm-fringed beaches line its bay-like coast and you’re never far from the water. The most eye-catching strip, Mindil Beach, also plays host to one of the city’s most vibrant markets, lined with stores selling Aboriginal artworks and souvenirs. I browsed awhile but Maria had other plans.

“The best Aboriginal art is found on the city’s walls,” she said as we made our way back to the Central Business District. The city centre looked thoroughly modern and nondescript, a legacy of heavy bombing during the Second World War and the destruction caused by Cyclone Tracy in 1974.

Yet, on closer inspection, I came across dozens of striking murals on the sides of its buildings. “Many have been painted by local Aboriginal artists, and there are more and more popping up every year,” continued Maria, leading me around backstreets where I saw some of the most eye-catching street art I’ve glimpsed anywhere.

Inspired by what I’d seen, and eager to delve deeper into Aboriginal art and culture, I continued to the Museum and Art Gallery of the Northern Territory, where I met Rebekah Raymond, Indigenous artist and curator of Aboriginal art and material culture at the museum.

As we walked through the galleries, I recognised familiar forms in the shape of dot-art canvases. But Aboriginal art is not limited to this well-known painting style, Rebekah explained, pointing out bold, contemporary pieces in different media, from bark paintings to copper and bronze sculptures, to works made from recycled straw. She highlighted the storytelling, songs, dances and ceremonies that Aboriginal people have used for millennia, not necessarily as an art form but to communicate and engage. Yet, were they to be seen in the context of a gallery, I thought, it would be hard not to appreciate such creativity for what it is: art.

We soon came across works focusing on the more challenging parts of Australian history: the frontier wars, the ensuing violence and the Aboriginal rights movement.

“These are pieces of our narrative that need to be shared and are an important part of truth telling,” Rebekah told me. I left under no illusion as to the importance of art in empowering Aboriginal people to, in the words Rebekah, “tell their own story”. It was one that I was eager to hear.

The Sacred Sandstone

It was getting dark as we arrived at the Indigenous-owned Ayers Rock Resort, just outside Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park. It meant that I couldn’t catch a proper glimpse of one of Australia’s most iconic landmarks. I did, however, arrive in time to join the Tali Wiru experience, which translates as ‘Beautiful Dune’ in the local Anangu language.

The open-air pop-up restaurant sits on top of a naturally formed dune, with the rock of Uluru and Kata Tjuta outlined at opposite ends. We were welcomed by Dwayne and the invigorating sounds of his didgeridoo/yidaki, listening to a style of music I’d never experienced before. Dwayne comes from a long line of didgeridoo players and explained some of its secrets to me, as well as the common errors most first-timers make. I must have made all of them when I took a shot at trying to play the instrument myself.

This deep-dive into Aboriginal culture continued as the Tali Wiru team presented us with examples of ‘bush tucker’, the native ingredients that Indigenous Australians traditionally use in cooking. We tried some of them raw, including the Kakadu plum I’d heard so much about on the Yellow Water Billabong. It was everything Mandy had said it was and more. Intense, unusual, and memorable flavours formed part of a menu that proved a worthy appetiser for the drama that followed when night finally fell.

Post dinner, we looked to the heavens for our entertainment. An impossibly bright canopy of stars dotted the famed desert sky. Freddie, a local guide who originally hailed from the Santa Teresa Aboriginal community, gave us a crash course in Indigenous astronomy.

“We see the sky with different eyes and many of our Dreaming stories are inspired by the stars,” he explained, pointing his laser torch first to the Pleiades constellation. “This grouping is the inspiration behind our Seven Sisters Dreaming story. Here, in the Western Desert, the Seven Sisters is a songline known as Kungkarangkalpa.”

There are many variations of the story, I learned, but they are all centred on an ancestral man who chases seven sisters that eventually turn into stars. I was told to look out for their presence when gazing on Aboriginal paintings; they are a very popular theme, Freddie confirmed, before showing us other starry links to traditional Aboriginal tales.

The connection with the sky goes beyond the Dreaming world though. The brightness and position of the stars also help to define the seasons, I was told. And sure enough, you could see why they had held the people here in such thrall. I had never seen the Milky Way sparkle so brightly, and realised, much to my surprise, the outline of Uluru was somehow still visible in the middle of the night.

The author travelled with support from Tourism Northern Territory and Tourism Australia.