In late June I had the immense privilege of participating in an Adnyamathanha Pilgrimage, led by Rev. Dr Aunty Denise Champion. It ran over four days and took us from Tarndanya (Adelaide) in Kaurna country, through or past Nukunu, Narangga, Ngadjuri, and Banggarla lands, to the stunning Flinders Ranges in Adnyamathanha country. I was part of a group of 15 participants who enjoyed this wonderful, thought-provoking, and challenging experience.
Before the pilgrimage and throughout the four days we were encouraged to ask questions of ourselves. Where am I going? What is my story? Where am I from? Where might I find God? What might surprise and challenge me? What does it mean to be a First Nations person in this country? My answers to these questions morphed and changed over time as I sought to understand myself, these lands, and God’s kingdom movement within them.
I was deeply challenged at one of the stops on the second day. I could not “see”. At Willochra, a tiny hamlet that no longer exists, there was a row of dead trees. Aunty Denise explained that they had run alongside the river that used to flow there, before colonisation. A building was erected alongside its banks, but due to ignorance concerning the regular flooding of the river, it was built too close and the building’s basement would flood. Instead of respecting the river and moving further away, the pastoralists decided to divert the river. What resulted was a terrible case of erosion as the diversion was not suitable.
Aunty Denise asked us how we thought that old creek felt. It is a good question. As it was forced to travel a different path, as it was moved from its long-established windings, what did this creation of God feel? Did it know sorrow as it recognised that the trees it nurtured would slowly perish? Was it distressed as it moved into a new path that didn’t work and its banks crumbled and widened and died? Did it feel disrespected as its very nature was ignored and seen as an inconvenience for newcomers?
Aunty Denise explained how creation is like family. Adnyamathanha people do not see human beings at the top of nature, to lord over and exploit it. Rather, country is at the top. The water, the land, the skies provide everything that creation needs to live. The trees and the plants come next with the animals, fish, and birds. Humans are at the bottom, tasked with the great responsibility to care for all the others. Surrounding all is the Creator.
Aunty Denise had done research about the name of God from nations and people groups from around the world. She came to realise that many of those meant “the high one”, or “the most high”. Adnyamathanha people have a word for that too. Arrawatanha is the word for “the most high one”. It has become a name for God. Arrawatanha was the one that set that creek on its path, gave it life, endowed it with purpose, ensured that it fed the trees and the myriad of creatures that drank and fed in and around it. The Adnyamathanha cared for the creek and its surrounds, ensuring that they did not take too much, respected it, and protected certain animals according to tribal lore. It took very little time for colonists to do great harm to the land, the water, the trees, and the animals. Colonial inability to understand the Australian landscape has resulted in very poor decisions and poor actions. As a consequence, the environment has suffered greatly.
It is not just the environment that has been negatively impacted by colonisation. The Adnyamathanha people, along with all First Nations peoples in this country, have been affected. Aunty Denise and her sisters, Noelene and Cynthia, shared family stories and it was disturbing to hear how their ancestors were treated and how their children and grandchildren are still affected today.
One of the things shared was the various legislations that impacted Aboriginal people in South Australia. These were largely paternalistic, patriarchal, and failed to respect indigenous lore, customs, language, or human rights. In the 1939 Aborigines Act, the Aborigines Protection Board was created to supervise Aboriginal welfare. What it resulted in was unprecedented levels of control. This became known as the “Dog Act” by Aboriginal people and it impacted Aunty Denise’s forbears. They were told when they could leave enforced camps, how long they could be away, what time they had to return and there would be consequences or punishments if any of these were broken. During the time they were away, the individual would “cease to be an Aborigine” according to the exemption certificate.
To my ears it sounded an awful lot like how we treat children.
My experience on the pilgrimage was a role reversal. The Aunties were the wise, patient parents showing their wayward, inexperienced children a better way, a more mature way of interacting with the world and with others.
Dr Katherine Grocott
