Day 76 | rain coming down at Iga Warta: I'm not moving
Yes, that’s right. The drought has broken.
Sort of. So I stayed another day after the heavy rain during the night because there was light misty rain falling until about 11 am.
There’s another good reason to stay. A group of 11 bush campers are coming for an Aboriginal cultural experience tonight. I was asked to join them. (There’s a big wall in the shop with quite a few people signing their names on it: the Governor general, film stars etc who have previously attended.) I had helped build a big fire in the afternoon (still no one around).
After another big feed of roo stew from S (the campers had their own bush tucker: pasta I think) we sat around listening to first Vincent talk about what his life as an aboriginal. He works for the local indigenous language radio station. Then he cooked some fabulous damper on the fire, consumed with Quandong jam and thick cream.
Then Clifford arrived from the funeral to tell a few local Aboriginal stories which he first recounted in the local Adnyamathanha language and then in what he called Aussie-English. Each part lasted about 15 to 20 minutes: the first time I’d ever heard the musicality of an Aboriginal language for an extended period of time. Cliff is a very dignified and softly, but eloquently, spoken 56 year old with a long white beard who was one of 2 brothers who set up Iga Warta 13 years ago. Not at all sentimental it kept me up long past my usual bedtime.
Even for such an old cynic I’m glad I stayed.