Open Writing

I met an interesting Wongi woman at Ken Colbung’s funeral at Pinnaroo in January.

Ken was an Aboriginal elder and activist and a reliable contact among writers.

He used to advise me on the cultural significance of certain sites in the metropolitan area and I had great respect for him.

It was a really hot day and I arrived early and found a seat outside the chapel. A lot of people were already there and I could see there was no way we could all fit in the chapel for the service, so I decided I’d stay outside.

Some of Ken’s cousins came to sit next to me in the shade.

The Wongi woman thought I was a cousin when she read my name on the attendance card – Harris is a popular black name among the Nyoongar in the South West.

I replied no, that I was a Pom but suspected that I was black inside because I had this desire to walkabout and read the land with respect.

She had been brought up on a mission north of Kalgoorlie among the Wongi, a desert people. She said to read the land you had to remember three things – sounds, smells and color. Light and shade were also important.

Yellow was the color of fat. The wattle trees bloomed strongly in August, a time of fat.

Christmas in the desert was a white month, a time for linking – to hunt. In the metropolitan area, Christmas of course was orange – from the WA Christmas tree.

The Wongi woman said she was a storyteller, interested in wellness and spiritual growth but not much concerned with money and material wealth.

She said all her stories were from her Mother, and one of her favorites was about Yindidi – which we know as the Milky Way.

Pointing to the sky, she said everything that’s up there is down here – pointing to the ground.

The story she told me was that a long time ago Seven Sisters lived in the Milky Way and they came to Earth, bringing with them eggs and seeds for planting.

They sang and danced the map of their journey, seeding life right through the country around places known today as Menzies, Coolgardie, Leonora, Mt Margaret ad Kookynie.

Every morning the Seven Sisters rose in the darkness to dance and sing the sun up and to celebrate its power.

From the sun they got their direction, where to plant the seeds, how to harvest and how to live so that life could be sustained eternally.

The Seven Sisters lived in caves, around dancing grounds and rock holes filled with fresh water. They pounded seeds at one place to make namili, the first bread, and in another they did healing with medicine plants and stones.

After preparing the earth for midgarn (birth) they returned to their starting place to find that the rock holes had dried up. So they sent the youngest sister off to get some water in the direction of where two men had come from – they had been following the sisters from a distance. One of the men touched and claimed the younger sister and together they bore the first children of the Wongi people. The six sisters returned to the Milky Way, leaving their mortal sister to catch up with them later.

When you look up into the Milky Way you can see that fainter, younger sister behind the other six. The two men are two clouds outside the Milky Way.

I mentioned to the Wongi woman that I suspected we are all much closer than we realise. I told her that recently I had read a book by a British academic who said that everybody alive today could be traced back through their female line to one of seven women. He called them the seven daughters of Eve.

The fact that you and I, Genghis Khan, Prince William, and the girl next door are all descended from seven women is already well known to the Wongi people. It’s written in the desert sky for all to see every night.

**

To read more of Richard's stories and articles please click on http://www.openwriting.com/archives/western_walkabout/