as time passes....in honour of Rraywala mildjingi

i have been thinking about a book my great-grandmother gave to my father sometime around 1950. It was called 'piccaninny walkabout', by axel poignant. It tells the story of a couple of yolngu kids who get lost in the bush and shows how they survive. Amazingly, overtime, this book was given to me as a youngster, who loved it, drew in it, absorbed the black and white pictures of kids playing in another distant world.

And then, years later, i walk around the same beaches, meet the grandchildren, meet the old people who are in the book. Yesterday, here in Darwin was a small ceremony...it was attended by maybe 100 people but I think it should have been witnessed by the whole country! We were celebrating a man, whose face I have known for years, who appeared in the book and whose children I have lived with. His name was Rraywala....he was born here, in mildjingi land:

At the time he was born, most of his family were being killed, massacred and eliminated by pastoralists. When I lived out bush, here in central arnhem land, i was told stories all the time about the struggle to exist, how clans were wiped out, how only one or two men survived from whole clans. No wonder these people are warriors and fighters....anyway....this man, Rraywala had an interesting life. He walked around and befriended a white fella, Donald Thompson, who took photos, fought, lived and learned with the yolngu mobs in Arnhem Land in the 1930-40's. Rraywala fought against the Japanese, moved around, lived his life and ended up passing away here in Darwin in the 1060's. His grave has been an unmarked number amongst thousands since then. That was until yesterday....

It is a beautiful thing to remember, to see stories entwined. to be a part of something that connects us all, whether we be ballanda (white fellas), yolngu, young, old whatever....we all got stories. Mine began as a kid, with piccaninny walkabout...i remeber the tears on the face of the the little girl rrikili in this book and testerday i stood with her family, as they mourned and shed tears over an old man who was gone but not forgotten.

Donald Thomson's family was there, as were many of Rraywala's family,but especially his daughter margaret mayal and son jimmy burrinyila. Margaret is one tough old chook, she kept wacking me on the arm and she thought it hilarious...but i was like,man ouch. She tough. And old jimmy. It was a ceremony to remember, to acknowledge the past and a man who despite everything, just had a damn big heart and forged a connection that spans the country today. They placed, after nearly 40 years a headstone on rraywala's grave and finally his children could spill forth their songs and tears....ngarri marringi, ga nyuni ngadji ngadji ngajie...butdal

and these fellas....the wak waks, well they send it out there....

i will remember.

my feet have walked tthis red earth country

my heart has heard this song

i get goosebumps

i shiver

when i think of the bones underground

and the spirit in the silence.

i will remember things i do not know

i will feel what i cannot understand

maybe one day

i will go back

to where my feet

touch this land

i wail with tears for the dead

for the story untold and unspoken

but i smile

with love for the beginning

i get goosebumps