Mayh, a Kunwinjku term for food animal, opens the door to the most commonly desired cultural activity – hunting, and the most common painting subject, in kunwardde, dollobbo and djurra bim (rock, bark and paper painting). I was as eager as everyone else to go fishing, but especially hunting. Unfortunately nobody that I became close to in the community had easy access to a gun, the weapon now used for most hunting, particularly during manimunak (magpie goose) season which had begun during the second half of my time in Gunbalanya. I did get a taste though after my kakkak obtained one from relatives in Kakadu and she butchered it in half on the kitchen table. My friend Matt and I baked it with potatoes in the oven, but I would have preferred a fire preparation. I likened the taste to rabbit rather than chicken or duck.

Luckily another hunting season began in which guns are unnecessary. Hunting Ngalmangiyi (long-neck turtle) requires a long metal rod with a wooden handle referred to as a crowbar, no shoes, and plenty of endurance. As it was the beginning of the season, often a days search would result in empty stomachs, the end of the dry being the time where big mobs are found, the swamps being at their driest. I went with my karrang and my rdarda and our dje dje walking along slowly in the mud and through kuku (water) with baladj (leech) and birndu (mosquitos), stabbing the rod into the mud until the sound of it hitting the shell is heard. As you can imagine, it’s like hitting the jackpot in such a vast area of possibility. Although I didn’t find one, I shared in the cooking, preparation and eating of the ngalmangiyi caught by one rdarda which enabled me to understand experientially the body parts and their depiction in paintings. I enjoyed the taste of the smokey fatty meat, the fat being bright yellow. It was similar to the kedgebbe (file snake) but less stringy.

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While spending many days helping daluk artists collect materials for fibre forms I shared in the dye making and obtained some dramatic results on canvas. I also began painting at the art centre with delek collected from Maburrinj showing both bininj and daluk my approach to painting animals. On various other trips I took bininj to collect hollow wood for mako (digeridoo), hardwood for clapsticks and fighting sticks and soft woods for mimih carvings. I was surprised how easily and quickly the men could spot the right tree, particularly one that was hollow. It was hard work using udburru (axe) to cut down and roughly prepare each piece, and amazing to see the transformation of a rugged branch into the smooth and meticulously painted wooden works.

It seems clear to me now that it is not only the meaning of a representation that gives a work its cultural significance, but a creative process that begins with gathering materials in places of personal significance to the artist. The object’s material substance has the ancestral power of country embedded within and emanates an aura, a state of becoming entity.

In July, after collecting the hard delek rock found in Larrakia country on the coast of Darwin for artists at Injalak, I discovered most preferred soft powdered delek due to the laborious grinding required. I insisted on my willingness to travel anywhere and collect soft pigments and Graham Badari (nabulanj who I call kakkali), the artist whose paintings I love, admitted the best delek was to be found on his kunbolk (country) within the Maburrinj area. I noticed it wasn’t on the outstation map and he said it was the large ‘big name’ area south of Kudjekbinj the outstation where hard kunnodjbe (red ochre) could be found. Kudjekbinj is the kunbolk of other talented artists at Injalak and has a powerful baby-dreaming site whose waters must be crossed in order to pass into Maburrinj (when we got there the water was spat onto the top of my head as language was spoken to counter the possibility of pregnancy as the water is full of yawk yawk water spirit babies that especially wanted to impregnate me). I was instructed to ask Graham’s sisters (ngalbulanj) and stepfather (nakodjok) if they would travel with us. They were all willing and I realised they hadn’t been there since they were young. Graham had in fact never been there, to his father’s country and wanted to also bring two of his brother’s children for the first time, his favourite daughter ngalwamud and her brother nawamud who were top kids (their skins should be kodjok like my kids or bangardi but their father married for love a daluk of the same skin or sister skin, traditionally djamun or tabu).

On the day we were leaving I packed food for 3 days and the daluk brought some essentials (tea, sugar and flour). I also bought a carton of bakki and a couple of birndu (mozzie) domes. Couldn’t fit mattresses and had to share bedding, so sleeping was on often rocky ground which we covered with leafy branches. I found myself able to sleep fine the bininj way, but felt a little cold. Our first camp was near a creek with djenj (fish), but once we got into Maburrinj, there were no large djenj available in the waterways. But this wasn’t the only thing missing, larrk manbolh (no road, nothing!). I found choosing the right path through the bush stressful, I was told to just choose the clearest path, but had no idea of the direction I should be headed. In the end I was relieved to discover one ngalbulanj was an extremely experienced 4wdriver and gladly handed the driving over to her. Travel was slow as the bininj (men) and often the wurdwurd (kids) or whichever daluk wasn’t driving, walked ahead of the truck with an udburru (axe) and chopped kundolk (trees) too big to drive over. We also removed logs and pounded down the many henpek or termite mounds. We encountered big mobs of nganabbarru (buffalo) and a few pigs but no kunj (macropods) or ngurrurdu (emu), the djang animal of the area with the same skin as me ngalkangila. A gun would have been useful so we could hunt nganabbarru in the event of a food shortage.

The second night the daluk said we were off course and I noticed nabulanj very uneasy saying Namorrodoh, the father malevolent spirit who resides in Maburrinj, was watching (so when I attempted to play clapsticks to encourage him to sing to namorrodoh like he’d said he would, he was obviously fearful and stopped me). He then said that there must have been a death in Gunbalanya and the human spirits had led us off course. We made fires all around the camp and stayed up late uneasy about sleep and in the dead of night when our protective fires had died down and we all slept, I sprang at the sound of pounding hooves. Knowing the flimsy tent was no protection I instinctively scrambled onto the other daluk who were trying to find the zippers and run away. Luckily nakodjok’s cry nganabbarru! from the bininj tent had sent the large animal in the opposite direction. The protective fires were lit amid laughter (especially about me jumping on the other daluk) and morning tea was very early. Both Ngalbulanj took directive control now claiming the old man nakodjok had forgotten the way.

We crossed all kinds of terrain, muddy swamps, sandy springs and rocky plateaus being the most precarious, but the truck made it through. I shared the driving with ngalbulanj and we reached a beautiful site with a small waterfall significant to the family where their karrang (mother) and ngabba (father) used to camp. All the sites we went to had small names within the large name Maburrinj. This place was called Minmorlork and I went swimming with ngalwamud while kakkali took photos. Later we arrived at a sandy creek area where the ‘old people’ or ancestors used to camp when the spring water was clean enough to drink (it was muddy now due to pigs and nganabbarru). Nabulanj later claims the daluk had heard the spirits of the old people banging the truck when we had left it unattended and worked on building a crossing. This was hard labour, first finding a suitable site and then digging into steep banks and collecting rocks for road base. We had several difficult spring crossings, but the worst was to come after attempting to cross a creek and becoming wedged good and proper, all four wheels sinking into the sandy bed beneath the water. This site is called Manbirrukarre and had pristine, crystal clear water with wakih (freshwater shrimp) and yeow (tiny fish used for bait). (On the way home we stopped at this site to cook our last manme (food) which consisted of damper made by the daluk baked in the hot sand heated by fire with jam and cheese I had left).

To build the crossing we had to jack up the troopy and place a big mob of kunwardde (rocks) beneath the wheels (lucky we were near a rocky plateau, although the ngannabbarru kept coming to look at us there), and dig out the muddy bank in which the back of the truck was embedded. After finally getting across and burning lots of grassland to make the way home quicker (nabulanj was very good at lighting grassfires so they burnt away from the truck) we were elated to be in familiar surroundings, a large grassland with a rocky outcrop where the family remembered gathering for photos all those years ago. Naturally I took some group shots and serendipitously there was a family of nganabbarru there. Nabulanj would later say no one could shoot them and lovingly explained they were looking after his kunbolk, no bininj being there to do it.

It wasn’t long before we arrived (a day late) to our destination madjarlngarlkum, the place where the whitest delek was to be found. It was marked by a beautiful bilimanda (red gum), which subsequently had nawamud’s delek laden hands printed on it. The wurdurd had so much fun painting themselves with the delek and kunnodjbe from Kudjekbinj and ngalbulanj lovingly placed the delek on ngalwamud’s hair. The delek was pure chalk in balls amidst the muddy banks of a creek. The site was sacred to Ngalyod and nabulanj told me how the delek got there, its real substance (secret), that it should be eaten before drinking from the creek, especially if red meat like kunj is eaten so ngalyod won’t smell it on your breath and swallow you. I just happen to cook kunj I had packed for our meal so I ate the delek and it tasted like pure chalk. The daluk also made the most delicious damper I had ever tasted, they had fried small cakes of it in the margarine I had brought.

Collecting enough delek to fill three large drums was a slow process. Nabulanj was very particular and insisted we try to get as much mud off it as possible. We spent the next morning collecting too and unfortunately ran out of time to visit the ngurrurdu djang kunwardde bim (emu dreaming rock art) nearby with three names Ngalwandjulk, Gurdurgarrdje and Debalkarrmeng. I also found out later that a purple ochre in the form of an underwater clay could also be collected near that site and wondered if it was the source of the very dark staining pigments left of the oldest kunwardde bim (rock art) contributed to mimih on Injalak Hill. I really want to go back one day.

We took a slight detour on the way kunred (home) to find the spring where Karlba could be found, the yellow fat of ngurrurdu (emu). I was excited because, like the purple, it was to be collected by diving deep under water and digging into the bank. The site was beautiful with big mob kunngobahn (pandanas), clean kuku (water) and a small waterfall. The wurdurd helped me and we dived deep feeling along the sandy bottom until it became clay. Bringing it up to the surface a rich golden colour with streaks of white. I was so happy and kakkali captured the special moment on my camera. A rock emerging from the waterfall became the spot where nawamud left his yellow hand prints. I began carrying the heavy water laden drum of karlba until the daluk insisted nabulanj carry it.

We were then on a mission to get back to Gunbalanya even though it was a long way away and the track we had made was easy to lose site of. Being already a day late, we knew people would begin to worry, and sure enough, djamun (police) came in a helicopter to find us, but by then we were on the Kudjekbinj track. I think when they saw our happy faces and our surprise to see them there was nothing they could say, but Injalak staff and the parents of wurdurd had been worried enough to send them. I wasn’t in the good books when we got back late in the night, but I couldn’t stop smiling.

The next day we had to collect green leaves and smoke the delek in a ceremony to remember their sister who had passed on. Then it was sold to the art centre after much dispute about the pre-agreed price. Nabulanj spent weeks talking emotionally about his country and dreaming of building a road and outstation there. Ngalbulanj was inspired to renew her license and dreamt of buying a troopy like mine. Everyone loves the troopy, and so do I, it’s the reason I was able to experience this unforgettable journey to collect paint in the Australian bush (thankyou Adam Bell).

Went fishing at Merganella a namarnkol (barramundi) breeding area with bininj and my new friend photographer Matt. Fellow Injalak workers Kristy and Mark also came. We sped out on wild dirt roads until reaching the lagoon crossing teeming with djenj. The catch was huge using lures and Matt caught kegebbe (file snake) by hand. The traditional biting off of the head did not occur to our disappointment. We then drove to the coast, fellow Injalak worker Ngalwakadj’s mothers kunbolk and found paradise. Cooking up our catch on the fire, the kegebbe sizzling with fat, we opened her up and she was full of wilark (eggs). We boiled them and plucked them off to eat like grapes. Soft shelled and full of yoke, they were a delicacy. We collected dollobbo on the way home. Everything needed to eat and make (bim) painting found in the bush.

A senior traditional owner passed away during the initial weeks of my stay and I was invited to the main funerary public ceremony which was held at his house in Banyan, Gunbalanya under a magnificent large Banyan tree with roots the wurdwurd (children) could get lost amongst. There was a lovely breeze and soft fresh sand to sit on. Huge hunks of bullikki (cow) were being cooked and a large djenj (fish) like a swordfish. Many bininj had come, some from saltwater kunbolk (country) so it was probably caught in the ocean. I sat with the daluk in my family as they painted themselves in delek, including their hair. I got more from the art centre for them. Many bininj throughout the week had come to Injalak for supplies, such as boomerang, clapstick and mako (didgeridoo). Young bininj were dancing to clapsticks and mako, many holding a shoe in place of the traditional implement to do the actions as it is referred to in dance and song groups. Then the widow with her head covered by a clothe or towel was led by a group down the street. My karrang explained she was being taken to the house of her family-in-law in order to be freed from the bond to them. senior bininj or clever men led the way painted up and gesturing away evil spirits and the spirit of the deceased. Once they returned to the house where the body lay in state there was much crying and shouting coming from within. Eventually balanda were invited in to pay respects. Inside everyone sat on the floor around the coffin which was elevated. I was overcome by emotion. When the time came for the coffin to be carried to the hearse the widow and other daluk began throwing themselves on the ground in a demonstration of mourning and then karrang got a large knife and began cutting her head so blood dripped down. The knife was shared around for the purpose amid wailing. It was impossible for me not to weep, but I guided karrang and my sisters and children to my troopy and became part of the slow procession to the gravesite at the base of arguluk hill, a significant site for initiations. Young daluk did the actions while singing often unable to hold back the tears and bininj hung their heads, it was a beautiful funeral. Some poems were read in English and Kunwinjku and a balanda priest did the Christian rites. Then his belongings including his mattress were placed in the grave too.

A giant fibre work of a yawk yawk (young woman water spirit) which was made last year by daluk, the main artist being my karrang, has been accepted into the telstra awards. How to transport its huge and delicate mass to Darwin is another story altogether. It was my task to help neaten it up under instruction from karrang with the rdarda (younger sister) whose dreaming this particular yawk yawk Marrayka was hers. While we worked out under the trees as she swayed in the breeze, another scent wafted along which I was certain had to be human sewerage. The manager Anthony Murphy came out and immediately went on a hunt for the source. We discovered one of the daluk hosing out the intestines of a narbarlek (rock wallaby) in order to cook and eat it. After smelling it I decided I wouldn’t give it a go, but the duruk (dogs) were going wild and kept dragging away parts of the carcass to the anger of the daluk. Often at the art centre kunj (macropods), usually in the form of nabarlek (a small rock wallaby), would be dropped off to artists by bininj council workers who had run over them. After being gutted they were often put in the fork of this tree away from duruk, and meat would be cut off when needed, the skin being left on as a preservation barrier.

Have visited rock art sites on Injalak a few times and located various mayh (food animals) depicted, some in sites not recorded systematically before. Sally May, the archaeologist now from ANU who introduced me to Injalak Hill last year came for a week with 4 archaeology students including her assistant Meg Travers. It was great as I consulted with Sally as to sites not recorded (most) and watched them record one. It would be easier if I had at least one other person helping me (ideally a team of 3) as an IFRAO scale should be included in the shot and systematic descriptive notes taken. Although it is not a requirement that I make archaeological recordings for my dissertation and it requires more time and effort, I would like to contribute to the efforts of archaeologists like Sally, there is so much unrecorded kunwardde bim in Australia washing away and fading each year.

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My father Tibor, mother Maree and sister Ange came to visit. I set them up in the house with birndu (mozzie) nets. Mum and Ange climbed Injalak Hill and Dad and I sat with the artists, many of whom I know now. My favourite painter still being Graham Badari who I call kakkali (eligible partner) although the daluk in my family of the same skin as me often call him kanjok as he is not their actual spouse using kakkali when humbugging him. I love Glen Namundja’s work too of course, but he is my skin brother meaning I should avoid communication. All the artists have distinct styles and capabilities with several emerging or mid career painters exhibiting in the cities and entering the Telstra, an important prize for indigenous artists.

Although we went on a Yellow water cruise viewing a spectacular array of bird life and large kinga, the highlight of the visit for my dad was a very short but successful fishing trip at the crossing with karrang (mum). Within the hour had caught two fish which looked a bit like namarngol, but were called Narrgarl.

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A second daluk (woman) who I call karrang (mum)has also become friendly with me outside my immediate kinship family. She is married to really down to earth senior man who I call ngabba (father) from Goulburn Island. He has impressive traditional scarring and is a skilled fisherman. I went with karrang, ngabba and their extended family on an action packed fishing trip at Cahill’s Crossing. Ngabba throws a net perfectly when catching yow (bait fish) and both daluk and bininj caught the biggest mob of wakih (shark) I had ever seen. There was about 9 and one namarngol (barramundi).

I couldn’t believe that the alligator river would have so many, although it is estaurine and the tide came up rapidly from the ocean and we moved from the sand to the bank. This is why so many kinga (crocodile) are seen here. Although I did not see one this time, when I crossed the river at a 70cm high tide in the troopy, there was one swimming across! When crossing at high tide (which is not advised) the rule is to wait for the tide to turn so the water becomes very still and less likely to push you.

Although ngabba said hot coal cooking in the sand is traditional, they cooked up one shark for me in another way. First cutting out large organs which they called fat, then chopping the shark up discarding head and tail and boiling it before removing skin and bone and straining the meat. Then the fat was chopped up and fried like liver to which the strained meat was added. It was really tasty and eaten with rice and salt, sometimes onion. Salt is always added to fish here, I guess being freshwater, the natural saltiness is reduced. I transported the sharks on the roof of the troopy so it was dripping with blood and required a big clean up.

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The Mardam (whisling kite) have a feeding frenzy, and nesting in my yard, I have the djenj they catch in the nearby billabong raining down as mardam drop them half eaten. I awake to a mardam eating a large garlerrk outside the window and wish I had got to my camera in time. Missing camera moments has been a common situation for me.

Areas of country in Gunbalanya are fenced off for bullocky which the community have kept breeding since Cahill’s time. There is an abbatoir and the meat is sold at the store. There is alot of kunngobahn (pandanas) growing in the paddocks and so many times I have taken daluk there for harvests. They do not trust the bullocky calling them cheeky (dangerous) especially if their horns look long and will not get out of the truck near them. The other night after a big day driving with kakkak to bars in kakadu resorts, Jabiru town camp and an outstation called Mudginberri between Gunbalanya and Jabiru, we encountered a Buffalo near Cahill’s crossing. It wasn’t tall but it was round and well fed. It appeared like a giant pig with buffalo horns. This trip was hilarious, so many different bininj coming for trips in the truck and we ended up with a couple of huge freshly caught djenj too.

On another trip to Darwin to pick up the manager and shop for Injalak supplies (boy, what alot of tea and sugar!!) I spotted a Jabiru eating what looked like a snake, but I was told probably an eel. The bininj who paint at Injalak went hunting the other day and got a wallaby, I wish I had been there, they cooked it on the spot. While collecting kunngobahn, daluk often find manme (vege foods) and we have had green plums, and black plums. After I made a particularly good manmali (hook stick) from a paperbark tree all on my own to replace one that we lost off the roof on the bumpy road to the springs (another sacred place), The daluk began making a kuku (pipe) from the wood scraps. It looked like a chillum (Indian pipe). We often collect colours for dye as well, the mandjurndum (yellow root), wirdihl wirdihl (brown bulb) and leaves of a bush no-one knew the name of to make black. Ash is added to the yellow to make orange and green is made from boiling kunngobahn leaves.

I love taking daluk out on country and they love it too. We are always wary of nayin (snakes) and bang the ground. A small brown went under the car once as I sat in it and another reared up at us on the road. One night after the club taking bininj and daluk home, I was given a large cooked egg to eat on the spot, It was really yummy and turned out to be wilark (the egg of the magpie goose). This is the dreaming for Arguluk Hill.

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