Friday January 23rd 2026
We’ve just landed on Elcho Island and the 12 seater plane sways down the runway reminding me of the old Holden we were once given with the clapped out front end. With the engines’ roar now reduced I’m able to ask the softly spoken young man I met while boarding in Darwin, how long since he’s been home. “Nine months”. My mind goes ‘that’s interesting – he’s been studying or working – ”what doing?” I ask . “Jail” he says holding up crossed forearms, without any apparent shame, as if it’s just one of a range of options or perhaps even the most obvious option as to why someone of his age/race/status/ place in the world might be returning home after a lengthy absence on a $500 one hour flight to a remote aboriginal community.
He proudly points to a white Hilux racing along parallel with the plane outside the airport fence – “that’s my brother”. He’s got a big cheering mob of family waiting for him as the plane comes to a stop opposite the Airport terminal – nothing more than a big roof on four steel posts outside a gate in the fence. Despite the occasion his main concern for a moment becomes helping untangle my backpack strap that’s caught itself on the plane’s ladder. He’s shyly self conscious in relation to the love he’s receiving from the giant family welcoming party. I’m already feeling moved by this valuing of family and tribe aboriginal culture and the humility of this young man and I’ve barely set foot.
Saturday January 24th 2026
Louise tasks me with checking out the local general store that is just past the gate of our compound. This gate has already been unlocked for the day. Our own “donger” – our long rectangular house also has a locked gate – Louise who is not disposed to paranoia merely drapes the chain around it at night. This rather ugly infrastructure could appear to the worst of my Queensland born and bred deep seated racist predjudices that yes Aboriginal people are a pack of thieves who can’t be trusted. More likely that if you are stuck with 3 broken down cars in the front yard and you don’t want to walk 5 or more kms to the town centre to get grandma’s medicine in the tropical heat and those white guys have fully serviced vehicles you might be tempted to have a borrow! Etc etc. You’ve committed a few crimes of poverty and hey Presto like Jeremiah you’re on a criminal justice system funded plane trip to a potential hellhole in Darwin!
Sunday January 25th 2026
Well after our evening walk on the beach which is an important antidote to the days tropical heat lockdown in the airconditioned donger, we’re using the Aboriginal corporation vehicle to make the 5 km trip home. Louise calls out to a small family group walking up the road – anyone heading to Bhutan (our suburb) …? We’ve thought we’d dodged the tropical storm heading across the bay – but as soon as the door shuts with our 4 lucky passengers now inside – whamo we’re hit with a tropical downpour. They include a 9 month baby in a pram on their 5 km return trip from a Sunday arvo family visit. There’s two broken down vehicles in the front yard and an old fella on under the verandah. The young father proudly tells us his dad now deceased was on the board of our first nations corporation employer. We’ve been told that first nations families suffer overcrowding – one family to one bedroom with up to five families in any one house. There might be one fridge and if that breaks down how do you manage your food – hard t manage anyway in such a household, not to mention your sleep which might not be setting you up for a good day at school. Also that school attendance is only 30 – 40 % in this community.
Monday 26th January
An auspicious day for black Australians and there’s a march planned through the youth program which is facilitated in various Arnhem Land communities by energetic and switched on young white women we’ve met at head office. However dense tropical downpours pretty much put paid to that plan and our anticipated Invasion Day outing- so it’s another quiet day at home recovering from the effort in getting here topped off with our usual 5.30 pm walk on the beach. A stream of fresh water is pouring into the sea at one end after the recent rains. The odd salt rusted vehicle or trailer chassis protrudes from the sand. With these objects, rather than unfortunate mishap, there’s more a sense of something coming to the end of it’s natural life and just taking a bit longer than your average natural object to decompose. It’s a refreshing values statement in the face of our over insured whitefella material possession preciousness backed up by the technology to rescue us from any mishap. A clear statement that material possessions are not king.
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