NT posts 1, 2 & 3

05/01/16

Day 2 of being in the outback and I'm already typing on my phone, due to lack of battery on my laptop since I stupidly brought a charger that DOESN'T WORK. Agh, anyway - I really wanted to write blogs about this journey, predominantly because once I got here I realised how important this experience would be for me. I am a naive as fuck future medical student (always have been lelll), and this hyperidealistic view I have of non-Indigenous and Indigenous relationships and their inevitable co-operation has already begun to dramatically transform. But, before I go into the nitty gritty of things and start sounding like I'm writing a socialwork paper - I need to mention the ABSOLUTE FUCKING AMAZINGNESS OF THE STARS in NT. It's bloody incredible, really. I looked up into the night sky tonight and caught my breath in wonder. It's beautiful out here - it really is. Y'all should try checking it out one day (but bring a cork hat and lots of water, it's fucking hot and there are a lot of flies lmao).

Furthermore on the positive train, there are adorable dogs here too! and they are so energetic, yet so fierce and intelligent. Yet, aside from the dogs, the important thing I wanted to discuss was the people. Ah, so - you might ask - what kind of humans decide to set up shop 3.5hrs away from the nearest supermarket & hospital in a place with ~ 250 people? All sorts of humans, that's who. I thought everyone (non-Indigenous) who came out here would be equally as idealistic, "nurturing" (please excuse my self-inflation) and curious as myself - but in actuality, there are incomprehensible amounts of reasons why people come out bush aside from those. Admittedly - and here's a big topic I want to bring forward - there is a severely PROMINENT lack of male presence in the government here, especially in regards to youth work/night patrolling. What 12-20yo Aboriginal male is going to take a girl, especially a /white/ girl, seriously when they've been raised in a remote community their whole life??? Okay, maybe a few, that was a harsh generalisation - but definitely not all.

Yes, of course I'm not suggesting white MEN should be RUNNING communities (what a laugh #missions), but more of the compassionate ones out there getting on board would definitely enhance the situation. The necessity of non-Indigenous presence in communities in any capacity is contentious (and I by no means wish to adequately discuss that here), but if we are going to have a team of white people infiltrate someone's homelands, at least make it an effective team. On top of the lack of male support, I've quickly learnt that being in community as a young female - predominantly working solo - is mothaducking lonely. I am a social being, and although I'm loving the stars, the dogs, and the local banter - I can see this becoming quite scarily lonesome. Thank God I'm only a volunteer. I'd need to get used to this.

Although I've said that, I can still imagine a thriving life working somewhere centrally remote - like Alice Springs, or Dubbo - and doing week-trips to community, rather than living here myself. Whether this will change once I've gotten to know the locals is unknown. I just know now that the stars do not replace creature comforts like phone reception - and fresh cheese.

I'll write more on the heavy stuff in communities later (drugs, grog, suicide etc.) But tonight I want to end with what I'm thinking about rn: how am I going to help Indigenous peoples the best I can without disrupting their culture/lives? CAN I even possibly do that?

nts: later I'll write about the character/personalities of the diff govt. workers I've met so far. It's been really interesting to suss how people work and what their motivations for being here are.

07/01/16

Alrighty, so my laptop charger started working (yay) and I’ve somehow managed to get more accessible wifi (double yay), so I’m going to start sharing with the world about living in Mount Allan/Yuelamu and what it all means to me. Ok, so when they tell you living out bush isn’t voluntourism, it’s not a joke – you get thrown in to a bureaucratic nightmare that is (and I quote) government “support” and witness first-hand the difficult ironies of community life. Just for those who aren’t well versed in Indigenous-issues terminology, community refers to the secluded-from-society groups of families to choose to live more ‘traditional’ lives (i.e. they still maintain various protocols in reference to puberty, mating, death rituals, hunting/gathering/preparation practices and power). I clarified what I meant by traditional because life in communities is by no means that.

Obviously, I came out here with fairly naïve ideals, and I apologise. I thought that this would be like peoples’ trips to 3^rd world countries where children laugh at my silly “whitefella” (used coloquially here as meaning non-Indigenous) jokes, always want to play the various games & activities I had planned, listen dotingly to me reading stories and climb all over me to play with my iPhone. No. Sure, the kids climb on me and think I’m funny. They stroke my hair because they’ve never seen the greasy smoothness that is the Asian mop before. They do like my phone, but most kids do. What I forgot was how their experiences of neglect would affect me.

What I didn’t realise I would be faced with was the palpable stagnation; the communal acceptance that things aren’t great; family life isn’t good, but there’s nothing anyone can do about it. The community workers feel that way, too. I guess I’m definitely not alone in having this epiphany – thousands upon thousands of others have confronted head-on the focal issue they were passionate about and realised they were out of their depth, but seeing it first hand is slowly breaking my heart.

This is no declaration of defeat. It’s just a documentation of one hump – the first of many – I am facing on my journey into learning more about Indigenous medicine. I can’t glorify this way of living. I can’t say it’s “better” than living in a commission house in suburban Sydney, but I can’t say it’s worse. It sucks to know how much horrific history has played a part in creating this purgatory (I feel I have the creative license to call it that, please feel free to take offence – come out here though, and tell me you don’t get what I mean). To me, it’s kinda like one of those really poorly thought out fusion menu items thought up by desperate café owners trying to save their business. Some new, some old… some modernity, some convention.

I lived amongst barefoot kids speaking native tongue (major plus). But also lived amongst adults addicted to alcohol (pretty solid detraction). Kids here have all kinds of health issues – I’m in fear of having caught their head lice this very second –that are more than easily treatable (yes, I know I’ve read about it in Indigenous health studies, but it really pains you that much more when you see it in person).

Okay, how about another ironically paired pro and con: community provides seclusion from societal demands for assimilation (great), people still choose to spend a LOT of their time (tbh sometimes time they should be looking after their children) watching tv/playing with phones/on the rec hall computer getting stimuli from the outside world (doesn’t that defeat the purpose?). This is why I have been avoiding being my usual self and posting everything online. I don’t want to look after these kids and have them look at me glued to my phone like their caregivers. Of course, however, I’m gonna dump this all on you guys now that I’m back.

I just want to end this 1^st entry by saying I am still passionate. Many Aboriginal people are wonderful, vibrant, complex and inspiring people (as is a portion of every group). I’m just a little lost (taken aback?). And I’m a little bit scared – and honestly, a little lonely. I have a team here but they’re not exactly making me feel extra homely. I dunno – the two of my companions are more than lovely! And intelligent, compassionate, outspoken and hardworking people, but I feel as though they’re not my people. Is that weird to say? Anywho I’m going to bed. Gotta sleep, it’s gonna be a long day tomorrow.

Wait, no, let’s just go and say it: it’s gonna be a long 3 weeks.

 09/01/16

Hold on, I'm kinda starting to get used to this. The wifi accessibility truly does help (I backposted/edited the last two posts, I really only got wifi + computer access today. Hard to admit that wifi has helped me feel that much less lonely. I really am a child of the modern world.