From Asia to Australia; following my thoughts rather than time. Visiting Khmu tribes in Northern Laos made me think about another country, which I love dearly (indeed, I have a Southern Cross on my right ankle) and its cultural heritage. I know very little about Aboriginal people, but I have seen enough of Australia to notice that Aboriginal culture is grossly underestimated.
I travelled Australia with European eyes. My first reaction seeing Aborigines around Sydney has been one of reject. They appeared so different to me. I experienced the gut-feeling that perhaps the pioneers felt; they are so different, they must be bad. Talking to people, I noticed many Australians seemed torn between two feelings; willingness to discover Aboriginal culture, at the same time wariness, maybe even fear of them. I did not need to wonder as to why; that's what I also felt. I laughed at racist jokes, couldn't find the term 'ABO' offensive, quickly moved if I was approached. For all intents and purposes, I was racist. I found naive and politically correct those who declared to cherish and love Aborigenal culture. I laughed at them, full of my White superiority.
A trip to the Red Centre was going to change my mind, radically change my feelings about Aboriginal people, and make me profundly ashamed of what I previously felt abou these people. Seeing Uluru rise from the red desert is an emotion which cannot be expressed in words. It truly is one of the greatest places on Earth. Although overrun by tourists, the sheer size of the expanse and of the rock itself allow anyone to have a corner where it's possible to cntemplate this wonder in peace. The lend itself felt different; alive, almost charged by some sort of ancestral energy. We walk around Uluru in the light of dawn, looking at the grooves and folds that inspired countless Dreamtime stories. I could imagine being there, roaming the desert, and suddenly find myself in front of this majesty. Seeing the wonders of nature allows one to understand why our ancestors thought mountains, rivers, oceans and forests were gods.
I found myself deeply saddened seeing so many Aboriginal people in Alice Springs, sitting on street corners, their eyes avoiding my gaze. Some were drinking, some weren't; nearly all of them looked like they wanted to be left alone. There was no integration between Whites and Aborigines; I don't know if that was because of racism from White people, I guess Aborigines also prefered to be left alone. Maybe the horrors of the Stolen generation are still too close for them to trust other Australians. I read to find out more about Aboriginal culture and their beliefs.
Now, I won't dwell on what is right and what is not. Whether Aborigines should get special rights, allowances and whatnot. All I want to say is that as people thay deserve respect. There should be no question on the issue of land rights; Aborigines do not own land, the land owns them. At the core of their beliefs is a holistic relationship between man and land, and all things which are part of the land; animal, plants, sticks and stones. They are one entity. Their land lives, breathes with the spirits of the departed who become part of the Dream, which I understood as force, energy pervading all things. Take the land away from the man, he ceases to exist. His soul, his essence is taken away from him. He becomes worthless.
Fast-forward a month. We are now in Broken Hill, visiting the sculpture park. For those who don't know, the sculpture park is set in the middle of the desert; it was created after a symposium in 1993, when sculpturers coming from several countries gathered up to create 12 sculptures, all with a story to tell. I was there for sunset and I found some pretty stones. Knowing the area was not protected national park, I quickly pocketed them. I was overcome by a feeling of unease. I understood; I had just taken something way from the land. Those pretty stones in my pocket were removed by their source. I had taken wawy their belongingness. I had acted in a way that broke the harmony of the land. We drove back up at sunrise, and I put the two stones back to where I found them. I looked up to see two kangaroos, about 2 foot from me. I had not seen nor heard them coming, it was as if they appeared. They looked at me and were gone. I like to think they were spirits coming to thank me for my gesture. Whatever it was, I felt great. I was filled with joy and felt at peace. I was happy to be there, proud to be part of the land.
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Sembra simile alla cultura Navajo (che io conosco solo per i libri di Tony Hillerman e per essere stata poco nella loro terra bellissima). I Navajo credono all'armonia (hozho)che deve essere mantenuta nello spirito dell'uomo, nella natura, con gli animali e le altre persone. Occorre evitare gli eccessi per restare nell'armonia, non esssere troppo ricchi, per esempio, essere capaci di perdono, rispetare gli animali. Se proprio è indispensabile andare a caccia, prima c'è un canto appropriato per chiedere perdono all'animale che si ucciderà, spegandogli i motivi della sua morte. La terra non è degli uomini, ma come dici tu, sono gli uomini a essere della Terra. Ho sempre pensato di essere stata Navajo in un'altra vita.
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