I was raw with grief from the sudden death of my mother when I first visited a traditional desert community. I lived in Newcastle and worked as a school teacher at the time and had the opportunity to spend a week in desert country during the school holidays. The Sydney Olympics were on, and I wasn’t the least bit interested.

I got a flight on the four seater mail plane and touched down around mid day. As I walked the half kilometre to the community I came across kids playing on the road, riding bikes, eating bush tomatoes that grew prolifically after an unusually wet season, then moving on with their games. Some girls were playing a marriage partner game based on the elaborate kinship system that preferred certain combinations of skin names. I wasn’t to understand the significance of this until much later. No one spoke more than a word or two of English. I knew nothing of Aboriginal languages. Read More...