Willowra Blues

I've had the privilege of visiting Willowra in the Northern Territory twice this year. It's a beautiful Warlpiri community about 340 km northwest of Alice Springs. I love travelling down the Anningie Station Road, taking in the beautiful surrounds of the Tanami Desert and knowing that when you suddenly stumble across the bizarre sight of donkeys, you know you've hit this little community north of Ti Tree.
With the ancient smiles, cultural wisdom and surreal scenery that exist there, it seems somewhat contradictory to be talking about the feelings of grief I've had in my past two visits. However, sadly, my last two visits to the community have coincided with the tragic deaths of two young people.

With lives that are constantly changing, and little stability, the one thing that seems to linger around communities, is sorry business - the ceremony that takes place after someone has died. If it's not in their own community, it's a neighbouring community, or in town in Alice. The toll this emotional turmoil takes is immense. I still remember the sudden weight that fell on my shoulders as I entered Willowra in February where only a few days earlier a 16 year old girl had unexpectedly died. I was feeling gloom, upset, frustrated...yet I didn't even know the girl! I can't imagine how members of community were feeling. As I walked through sorry camp putting out my hand to members of the community to acknowledge their loss, the pain on their faces was unbearable to witness.

Then, a fortnight ago, I was making my way back to Willowra. The feeling was great. I was enjoying catching up with people I hadn't seen in a while, and starting to feel like I was really developing some strong relationships with the community. Then suddenly on the Wednesday morning as I was gathering up some of the young Mum's for playgroup a maroon car sped past and pulled out the front of one of the houses. What was all the commotion? What was going on? We had to check it out...and as we drove up some Warlpiri was spoken, and it became apparent. There had been a tragic accident just 20 km out from Willowra. A young man had died.

I'm still confounded by the emotions I experienced at being present at a moment, when people found out about the death of a loved one. Having experienced deaths of loved ones in my immediate family in my own life, I empathised with their feelings. But their grief is often and regular. Within the space of less than six months, they lost another family member. I am really challenged as to how these people can move on. Yet, time and time again they do. Every time they get knocked down, they get up again.
Sorry Business is such a large part of their lives, and I understand why. It is an outpouring and sometimes very public display of their grief and sadness that is felt after losing someone. By acknowledging this grief and mourning their loss, I suppose it's the only way they can try and move on. That's not to say that all their pain will go away or becomes bearable, but at least it will keep them going until it inevitably occurs again.

I'm back in the comfort of Sydney now, but still very much have the people of Willowra and indeed all Indigenous communities in my thoughts. It's easy to be reflective when your thousands of kilometres away from what's occurring and don't have to experience the harsh realities of what's going on. Just like it's easy for beaurocrats, who at the same distance away can make decisions impacting on peoples' lives without really understanding what's going on. All I know is that these events are happening right now in our backyard, and we need real politicians with vision to stand up for what is right by our Indigenous brothers and sisters.


I'd like to leave you with a few shots from my visit earlier this year in February, fresh after some rain, with the grass green, and the creek flowing. Despite all the gloom and doom I've expressed, I'd love for it to give you a sense of the hope and resilience that Indigenous Australians have, in the stunning surrounds that encapsulate this community.