A hot time in the Kimberley

The Karajarri people perform a welcome to the land ceremony for the participants in the Indigenous Protected Areas Managers meeting.

Tanya Vernes joined an annual Indigenous Protected Area Managers meeting. The managers came from right across north Australia to meet at the the Nygah Nygah outstation in Karajarri country which includes the red lands south of Broome. Over an incredible few days she got to see how the Indigenous Protected Areas worked,  experienced the hospitality of the the Karajarri and Bardi Jawi rangers and even saw Canberra diplomats dance the hokey pokey with the traditional owners of the land.

A colleague stood with her 12 eggs still in the carton, looking at them in disbelief.

“I left them in the car yesterday, but when I tried to make breakfast this morning every single one of them was hardboiled!” she exclaimed.

We knew it was going to be hot, but we had never had eggs cook in the sun before they had even been taken out of a carton.

We were out in the pindan scrub south of Broome where the brilliant red sandy dunes covered in low acacia scrub gently rise and fall to every horizon like waves across the landscape, eventually merging into desert further south, but here coming up abruptly against the shimmering white and aquamarine of the Kimberley coast.

We had arrived at the little outstation of Nygah Nygah consisting of a couple of buildings joined by a verandah, which had been transformed by the hard work of one family to a meeting place for 100 people from across northern Australia. They were gathered here for a meeting of Indigenous Protected Area managers.

Tents were set up in little clearings surrounded by bush, each with a tarp thoughtfully strung up for shade. There was a huge ‘meeting room’ marquee with tables, chairs, projector and lights for late night work, another marquee for dining and a large clearing prepared for evening entertainment.

Oh, and the highlight: six newly constructed showers complete with shower curtains, towel racks and a chair if you happen to have to wait for your turn. These are the flashiest showers I’ve seen out bush yet.

On the first day we were welcomed traditionally to Karajarri country by two of the elders. They sang out in language as part of the formal introduction between us (the strangers) and the country. It’s an introduction that might be done between any two people because in this culture Country is a living entity, with a “life and will of its own”.

Special leaves had been collected and were set smoking. As each of us walked past, the smoke rose to meet us (including my dog). In doing this we were now ‘known’ by Country and are no longer strangers. This knowing helps keep both the country and the people in it safe, for if the country doesn’t know who you are it could react in a negative way: anything could happen. Through this ritual, we are introduced to each other.

This ritual also gives us permission to be here. It is like someone opening the door to their home and inviting you in - a formal welcome which extends hospitality and goodwill towards guests.

I always think of entering people’s country like I would their home. If you welcome someone to Country (or into your home), they have permission to be there. If you don’t welcome them onto Country (or into your home) they’re either up to no good (like an intruder) or just plain rude.

So I view this ceremony as a very important ritual to be observed on many levels: security, hospitality, politeness, respect and of course a very important part of a living culture that extends back to beyond what we can measure.

Once the meeting began, the temperature under the marquee was well into the 40’s but everyone sweated it out. It was a testament to people’s dedication and commitment, although perhaps to the fact that they were acclimatised to these extreme conditions.

Each day we heard the passion and commitment from each of the people working in the existing Indigenous Protected Areas across northern and central Australia and also from those who were investigating the idea of an IPA for their country.

It was inspiring to hear from people, who are the equivalent of national park managers but with the added complexity of being cultural custodians as well. They have to work to care for cultural and environmental values, because one cannot exist without the other.

There were also workshop sessions on issues in common to the managers, including marine Indigenous Protected Areas, fee-for-service arrangements and developing new research techniques such as i-tracker.

Each afternoon, the Traditional Owners showed us around their country, taking us to some special places and discussing the challenging issues they must deal with to look after them (tourists, erosion, feral cattle and horses to name a few).

For me this was a very important annual event, as one of my roles is as an advisor to the Indigenous Protected Areas Advisory Group which reports to the Indigenous Advisory Committee . This group made up of Indigenous, NGO, state government representatives from across Australia provides advice to the Commonwealth Minister for the Environment, Peter Garrett on the IPA program.

It was an invaluable week where I could hear first-hand how the IPA program was working for people on the ground, what might need changing or tweaking or what new initiatives could help improve the program.

Indigenous Protected Areas have become one of the most successful Cultural and Natural Resource Management programs in Australia, and have increased the size of the national reserve system by over 25%. The main difference between these conservation areas and the usual National Parks is that Indigenous Protected Areas are managed by Aboriginal people - wholely and solely.

They are funded by the Commonwealth (like other reserves) but to a much lesser degree. This is something that needs rectifying as they have much broader outcomes than just conservation, including health, employment, education, governance, cultural knowledge transmission and the less easily measured achievements such as the increased self-esteem and well-being of individuals and communities.

All week the Karajarri and Bardi Jawi rangers looked after us, we always had cool water to drink and fresh fruit from the chiller to keep our attention focused.

After spending all day in the red dust, the Karajarri people took the participants to the place where the sand turns white and meets the sea.

At the end of the day, most of us made the 20 minute drive down the sandy track to the lagoon, where the red pindan sand becomes white pristine beach. It was a perfect way to end the hot dusty day; a refreshing swim in the ocean, a few throws of the handline and the setting sun.

It was great to see the desert mob sitting on the beach at the end of the day, some of them fishing…almost the antipodes for them, although they’d be used to the heat.

Every night there was something happening. On the first night Nyangumarta and Karajarri dancers performed, which was very special for all of us to see these dances and hear these songs in their own country. It was wonderful to see so many young kids take part, knowing the songs and dances of their culture. On the second night we went in a totally different direction with a rock band from Bidyadanga,treating us to their original material with a couple of ‘icebreakers’: I still have that fabulous image of traditional owners and Canberra bureaucrats doing the hokey pokey.

By night the breeze was cool and the temperature dropped enough for us to snuggle into our swags with a blanket. We all got a good night’s sleep ready for the next day.

We were cared for so well by the King family, they really put in a lot of hard work to accommodate us (and feed us such wonderful food!), and we were very grateful for the opportunity to meet together for such an important meeting on their country.