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Published On: Apr 07, 2008 02:09 PM
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Uluru Handover
I recently came across these short esays written
soon after the hand over of Uluru in 1985. An interesting contrast to the
version I wrote recently,
read here in my Aboriginal Culture blog category.
Flying To The Red
HeartFlying low in a Fokker
over desert country , fairly featureless but for the shaping of the terrain by
that scarcest of ingredients;
water.Etched clearly into the
landscape, like the veins of the bloodstream, are the dry waterways, displaying
clearly the arterial system which brings life to the desert. The largest of the
trees grow obviously along the deeper water courses, with a corresponding fall
off in foliage where the courses are
shallower.Although lacking other
prominent features, the desert has been shaped by a devine hand, the subtleties
overlooked by my news-paper-perusing fellow travellers. The page I'm gazing at
is infinite, and the blending of reds, yellows, blues and greens are spread with
meticulous balance. Even the cloud
cover seems spread with a view to the maintenance of balance. The razor edged
shadows below are evenly spaced, and the merest wisp is sharply defined. The
clouds, between the viewer and the ground, are balls of cotton, all floating at
the same level, and supported by nothing at
all.This harmonious landscape, as
always, is defiled by the hand of man. Chiselled across the whole magnificent
work are the twin scalpel lines of the Stuart Highway, and the railway track
along which the Ghan makes its lonely journey. Bulldozed tracks appear
constantly, beginning and ending nowhere in pursuit of riches beneath the
surface.At Cooper Pedy, the frenzy of
the search for opal is revealed by bomb-blasted craters and the gouging of
machinery; pockmarks on the face of the country exposing virginal whiteness
beneath.The paradox is completed with
the knowledge that, tiny though the airborne projectile carrying us to the red
centre may be, it too is intruding into the very air through which it passes;
and leaving in its wake the shattering reminder to the desert, that not even its
silence is inviolate.The
CeremonyThe Mutitjulu
Community, previously a part of the tourist industry at Ayer's Rock, but now
inhabited by the semi-permanent Aboriginals who will be the title holders after
the ceremony which is about to take place.
View
photos
Caroline, just two weeks
out of London is with me, having flown up from Adelaide on the same Fokker
aircraft that morning, and I can't help but experience the occasion through her
eyes, as well as my own.There is a
crowd of perhaps 3,000 people, mostly Aboriginals, many of whom have travelled
from interstate for the ceremony. There are also churchmen, police, media,
politicians, and white supporters of the native
population.We have managed to find a
good position at the left of the official table, which is on a red-earth mound,
with Uluru the backdrop behind us. Caroline is surprised that the Aboriginals
show no resentment at our proximity to the stage. Dozens of media
representatives are gathered at the front of the crowd, to the chagrin of some.
Camp dogs snooze peacefully in the shade of the official table.
I point out Yami Lester, Aboriginal
spokesperson and activist, and tell Caroline that his blindness was allegedly
caused by British atomic bomb tests in the fifties. The excitement is growing by
the minute, with Yami periodically addressing the crowd over the sound
system."Would the people at the back
come forward and fill the empty spaces?" and as the wishes are complied with,
"Keep that area to the left there clear for the official
party."A roped off area to our left as
we face the crowd marks the passageway the official party will be
using.Then, "The Governor-General will
be here in ten minutes."The scene is
set. A sea of black faces, the red earth, and the red black and yellow
Aboriginal colours on headbands, t-shirts and flags. Waiting for the
representatives of white man's society to 'give back' what had been theirs for
40,000 years."The Governor General has
arrived," says Yami, and excitement sweeps through the crowd. A flurry of
activity from the crowd near the entrance, and a 'parting of the waves' as the
official party enters the arena. Clive
Holding, the Minister of Aboriginal Affairs, and the Governor General, Sir
Ninian Stephens, look cool and comfortable in their light suits as they make
their way to the table. They are accompanied by the Minister of the Environment
and Heritage, Barry Cohen, and the GG's aide de camp in his military uniform. We
are in a great position for photography as the national anthem is
played.Yami welcomes the guests with
poise, dignity and humour. He comments that he understands that it is Sir
Ninian's first visit to Uluru, and that ".........it is just as well that he is
able to make it today, as some people think that the Aboriginal people are going
to tow it away after the ceremony."Sir
Ninian then stands to speak, with the humility and dignity befitting the
occasion. He refers to Uluru as being "......not only at the centre of
Australia, but at its very heart." As he speaks he pauses, so that Yami can
translate his words into the Pitjantjatjara language for the bush
people.Finally, the moment has come.
The large framed and glass encased certificate of title is handed to Nipper
Winmatti, with a handshake from Sir Ninian. The excitement is electric as the
title is lifted triumphantly into the air, and a small boy is lifted alongside
it. This is a moment to savour. The boy and the title represent hope for the
future, and redress for the intolerance and bigotry of the
past.The photographers and film crews
are shooting furiously, and the excitement is at a crescendo, when the mood is
rudely shattered. A light plane, circling the ceremony and trailing behind it a
banner, snarls its message. "AYERS ROCK FOR ALL
AUSTRALIANS."After a few minutes the
plane departs. The crowd's mood is till buoyant as the traditional owners sign
the 99 year lease back to the Australian National Parks and Wildlife Service, a
joint management arrangement which sees the traditional owners with a majority
on the board.For me, however, the roar
of a plane has for the second time that day shattered the fragile magic of
Australia's heart.
Posted: Thu - September 21, 2006 at 04:18 PM
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