Recently, the chief, head lawman and medicine man of the community of Mulga Bore who ”adopted” me 21 years ago and gave me a “skin name” and therefore a whole new family through the Anmatyere Aboriginal kin family structure, passed away aged 89. Mr Bird was my son in law. (For cultural reasons his first name may never be used again). One of his daughters, my skin sister Rosie, immediately called me to let me know of his passing.  

I flew to Alice Springs as soon as I could to pay my respects. Part of “sorry business”, grieving, involves cutting one’s hair as a symbolic act of mourning and paying respect to the deceased. The younger generation now just cut some of their hair only. It is part of letting go. They get rid of all their possessions too – pass them on to another family, which they might not normally mix with for cultural/tribal reasons, to make peace. So I got my head shaved by another of Mr Bird’s daughters. My hair was collected and placed in a bag for Mavis, Mr Bird’s wife, so that whenever she feels sad, she can see my hair and know that I grieve with her.   That evening we ate barbecued kangaroo tail and baked potatoes – thank goodness for the potatoes😂.   

Here are a few photos of my week end. 4 weeks later, I went to Mulga Bore for the actual funeral and I was told I was allowed to wear Mr Bird’s sacred purple colour like his daughters for the funeral, because the family always treated me as family, ever since they gave me a skin name and family back in 2003. Mr Bird was a highly respected elder, a lawman, a strong family man who wanted his family and community to thrive.  He taught me so much, slowly slowly, as he felt I was ready to learn more. I will always remember my time with him and his family with fondness and gratitude. We could spend hours communicating in silence.  Or laughter. Like the day I was sitting on the porch with the whole family when a white ute (pickup truck) comes up and stops a little way away from the house. The whitefellow stays in his ute – respectfully waiting for me to come up to him. I know he’s after me.  I tell my family I need to go over as I am sure this whitefellow wants to see my permit. I am supposed to request a permit to be travelling on this Aboriginal land. I gave up trying ages ago after calling the land council responsible for such permits and leaving endless messages.   The family all tell me I don’t need a permit but I explain I’d better go over and speak to him.  As I walk towards the car, that’s when Mr Bird shouts out “she’s my mother-in-law” and the rest of the family follow suit, “she’s my mother”, “she’s my sister”, “she’s my aunty”.   The poor whitefella was speechless for a while.   He did tell me I should make sure I get a permit next time. 

After picking up a 4×4 from Alice Airport, I do a big shop for the family for dinner tonight and lunch tomorrow and finally head out to Mulga Bore. The radio works for a short while and learn of the CrowdStrike software bug that took down global IT infrastructure world wide and that had affected thousand of businesses and flights this afternoon. I am lucky to have escaped any delay. The shopping took a little longer than I expected and I am now heading at a time I usually avoid driving due to kangaroos on the road. Again, the universe is on my side and I get to Mulga Bore without incident as the sun is setting. I am greeted by the most glorious sunset and the most gut wrenching wailing of Mavis and family.   I sit with Mavis, both embracing each other for a while, sobbing. For a long long while. I eventually leave and join the rest of the family at the shed Mr Bird had spent a huge effort getting a grant to build for his community. This is where tonight’s bbq, singing and dancing is being held, and the funeral service tomorrow morning. Two contrasting gatherings. It will turn out to be a memorable couple of days. 

I slept in my hire car for the night under a full moon and clear sky – a stunning but freezing winter’s night. 

Poor Mavis never stopped wailing. We all stood in the shed for hours. Eventually, Mr Bird’s coffin is carried out and loaded onto a ute which took him to his final resting place, a sacred site only men are allowed to go to.   An old school teacher, a white fellow, was invited to join them. He kindly sent me photos of Mr Bird making sure I could not determine where the location is. 

Mr Bird will be missed and I will forever be grateful to him, his family and my man Kenny whom I visited a few times on these recent trips.  Sending Kenny my love and thoughts as he battles health issues – I am sorry I cannot visit right now but you too are forever in my thoughts and heart. 

Thank you Rosie for staying in touch. Love you always.

– Anne