The art of crafting a community

Glen, local artist using ocres and fine grass
to create line painting on French paper

Aboriginal culture in Arnhem Land is unique, incredibly interesting and unfortunately diminishing. In Gunbalanya we have the Injalak Arts Centre- a community owned, non-profit organisation that supports local arts and crafts. When you step inside the Injalak building it's like passing through the wardrobe into Narnia in Lewis’ “The lion, the witch and the wardrobe”. You enter into a modern, crisply painted, air conditioned, art gallery that could be found in Sydney or Melbourne. Works on French paper are professionally framed, canvases are hung neatly, baskets are elevated on tall white stands and long wooden totems stand elegantly in the corners. To read more go to injalak.com. 

Out the back you can meet the artists at work. Men and women are separated with the men working on paintings on bark, canvas or paper, as well as carvings and silk screen printing. Women will be basket weaving using local pandanas leaves that they’ve dyed using boiled berries and tree roots. They sit under trees or bark shelters in the shadow of Injalak Hill and the billabong- a really peaceful and inspiring setting.

A local man, Roland, gave me a tour of Injalak Hill last weekend. It is a sacred place where many of the older people lived as children (before houses, shops and the community). As we ascended into the sandstone country we discovered hundreds of galleries with rock art dating back 60,000 years. It was incredible with works depicting foods including thylacines, stories of spirits and creation, and paintings of people dancing and hunting. We also went to a sacred burial site and saw remains of human skeletons. The caves provided a cool, breezy shelter and a view of the flood plains surrounding us.

Typical gallery featuring local rock art 

Always quiet; Gunbalanya pool

After a hot walk up the Injalak Hill I felt like cooling down with a swim. Gunbalanya has a 25 metre pool that is only mildly refreshing as the water temperature is usually around 36 degrees. It was built by the Gunbalanya Sports and Social Club; the owner of which also owns Gunbalanya Air, the Gunbalanya service station and is the Gunbalanya mayor. He charges locals the exorbitant fee of $140 per person for 3 months use of the pool which precludes almost 99% of the community from actually swimming in the pool. This is a great shame as there is statistical evidence showing that an accessible public pool in remote Aboriginal communities decreases the incidence of ear, skin and respiratory infections and reduces antibiotic use. 

Keen to keep fit I went and inquired about purchasing a pool key. I was informed that as the community doctor I was entitled to a free key as long as I did not share it with anyone or bring any dogs into the pool area. I was annoyed by this preferential treatment and the discrimination being shown towards locals. My options were to leave in protest, pay for the key out of principle (and give more money to the wealthiest people in town) or not look a gift horse in the mouth - take the key, set a good example by exercising and keep fit in the safest way possible (cardio on land is limited by cheeky dogs and crocodiles close to the billabong). Perhaps because I wanted to stay sane and maintain some cardiovascular fitness I chose the third option- but it was a difficult decision and possibly not the right one. 

The pool is adjacent to the Club- the only place in town where you can legally drink alcohol- that is, the only place to legally drink if you’re Aboriginal. White people can apply for a liquor permit and bring alcohol into their homes for personal consumption (but that’s another discussion). The Club is open from 4.30-8pm three nights a week and serves mid-strength beer or soft drinks only. As I swim I see locals walk slowly towards the gates on Club nights. It reminds me of the Catholics in Spain going to 6 o’clock mass or the Muslims in Malaysia going to the mosque for prayers. Slowly, the people drift to the only place in town where they can regularly meet and socialise. I went in one day when I had questions about the pool and boy, didn’t I feel different! Sophie, Simon and I were the only white people there and as we walked through everyone stopped, stared and then spoke in language with us picking up words like “doctors”, “clinic” and “Melbourne”. Overall, people were very friendly- waving or nodding, introducing themselves and offering us seats. 

A hand woven fish trap

I wondered about the differences between me and my friends at home and this group of people. I realised how privileged I was to have the freedom to choose how, when and where I socialised. How would I feel if the government restricted my choices about going out and limited my consumption of alcohol to a couple of hours, three nights a week, in the Club setting only and limited to drink beer equivalent in quality to weak VB? Interestingly, less Aboriginal people drink per capita than non-Aboriginal people.

Some Aboriginal people are psychologically addicted to alcohol and go to great lengths to maximise the effects, for example not eating 24 hours before a Club night and only drinking Bushell’s tea with sugar. You can postulate reasons for drinking other than enjoyment like boredom, lack of fulfilment, disengagement, disempowerment, escapism or social pressure. But whatever the reason, for those who drink up here there are significant problems for both the individuals and the community. On Club nights property is damaged and destroyed, the clinic fills up with accidents and assaults, domestic violence rates increase and money is no longer available for essentials like food and power. The Club appears to act as a moral compass banning people from the Club like known perpetrators of domestic violence or pregnant women. But at the same time I witnessed them irresponsibly serving alcohol and noted that there is no food or water available at the Club. When you’re swimming laps alone in the tepid pool as the sun goes down, you can’t help but reflect on some of the moral and ethical challenges of decision making in Aboriginal communities.

Coburg Peninsula highlighted by red box!
Note Gunbalanya southeast of Coburg.

Black Point and rocks covered in oysters

On a lighter note, I had the opportunity to do an “outstation” visit to extremely remote communities on the Coburg Peninsula. Thanks to Whitlam and the development of Medicare, I had the privilege of traveling via Charter plane to provide medical care to some of the most beautiful and isolated communities in Australia. We were doing check -ups, blood tests and administering medications from the back of a ute next to the airstrip. We sat on verandahs looking through frangipani trees at the crystal clear Arafura Sea. We met people whose diet totally comprises of fish, oysters, mud crabs and crayfish. I thought this would be awesome until I saw the worst gout I’ve ever seen and that is possibly linked to the amount of seafood consumed. It was amazing and such extreme medicine. I hope I get another opportunity to go on a trip like this. 

That’s all for 2014- thanks for reading. I hope you all have a very merry christmas and a fabulous start to 2015. I’ll be in Sydney, Melbourne, Murrumbateman and Mollymook sometime before the 7th of January. Hope to see many of you then!

Pilot, plane, patients and clinic/ ute