enRoute


	ENROUTE TV ENROUTE FM MEDIA KIT AIR CANADA LINKS WRITERS' GUIDELINES

DISPATCH FROM AUSTRALIA:
GEORGE OF THE OUTBACK (cont'd)

He finally relents, and as they catch up on their news, I wander through his cement abode. The common room is empty except for some broken lawn chairs, a television and a few dirty mattresses. The kitchen, however, boasts a bloody cow’s rib cage on the counter. To my relief, I’m sleeping outside like many of Yuendumu’s residents, who prefer to curl up in humpies (traditional bush shelters) or bed frames out in the yard.

Eddie wants to show me something, so we drive to a clearing dotted with wooden grave markers. "We don’t like to bury our people in town," Eddie tells me as the children solemnly place flowers. "Especially the old ones. We bring them out here. To their land. To their dreaming. It’s much better this way."

Nearby lies the outstation, a tin shack where they bring the children to run up the hills and splash in the water holes, where they still hunt for kangaroo and goanna. We return to find George’s son Gordon has cooked us dinner. I force myself to forget what I found in the kitchen. It works. The hogget chops taste amazing. The rest of the night is a blur of activity as the entire community stops by to see the "white fella." Despite the Third World conditions (at least by Western standards), everyone seems much happier here than in Alice, where alcoholism is a problem. In Yuendumu, they seem to have found their freedom. Maybe that’s what Eddie meant by "journos" who "don’t understand."

I wake up to the yips of puppies, George’s hacking cough and Eddie scooping up the yard’s trash and setting it ablaze. Heading to the community store for petrol, I discover that I’ve spent nearly all my cash. George is gazing up at the clear sky when I tell him, and he immediately pleads to return to town.

So we head back toward Alice, and an hour into our drive, as predicted earlier, it begins to pour. By the next morning, the Tanami has become impassable. If we’d stayed another night, we would have been trapped in Yuendumu for at least a week. Maybe two.

Unlike George, I had completely forgotten the old woman’s rainfall warning – not that I would have put much credence in it. After my time in the desert, I was beginning to understand its people – but only just beginning. [ ]

ADD YOUR COMMENTS > letters@enroutemag.net

< back