The Magic of Ochre and Ancient Traditions
When we arrived at Iga Warta — a small community in the Northern Flinders Ranges we found Terry Coulthard hard at work. He was documenting his language — Yura Ngawarla — with two linguists from the University of Adelaide. It’s one of the languages of the Adnyamathanha (rock) people, who have occupied the Flinders for thousands of generations. There were hundreds of languages spoken when white settlers came to Australia but forced relocation to centralised missions resulted in irreversible repercussions to the world’s longest continuing culture. Sadly, life in the missions often resulted in aboriginal people being persuaded to give up their cultural practices, settle for poor quality rations rather than forage and hunt, give up the practice of sacred ceremonies like initiation & fire stick marriage and forced to speak English.
Terry is keen to be part of a concerted effort to revive and share his culture more widely.
Iga Warta was the original vision of Terry’s dad, now brought to life by Terry and his siblings. It was born out of a desire to not only keep Adnyamanthanha culture alive, but to break down the barriers between white and black culture, thus preserving it for generations to come. Coming here may force you out of your comfort zone. It is an immersive experience in aboriginal culture but also one that encourages you to reconnect with the earth. If you are open you might leave with a deep appreciation for the rich traditions that enabled this continent to thrive for so long, rewarding the people that cared for her with an abundance of food and water. It is a humbling thought to reflect on as we have travelled through a devastated landscape, ravaged by drought to get here. These parts have not seen proper rain in nearly two years, leaving the saltbush plains of pastoral properties stripped bare.
A group of law students from the University of Adelaide have joined us at the campfire on our first night. As I eavesdrop on their discussions at dinner, I feel buoyed by the eagerness of the next generation to understand the complex problems of our troubled history and amazed at the maturity of their debates. The next morning we pile into a bus to travel to an ochre pit.
On the way, Terry explains that his mob share a common heritage based on Yura Muda — Aboriginal Law and culture derived from the land. The Yura Muda is passed on orally through creation stories narrated at campfires from one generation to the next. We sense his pride in sharing his yura muda and feel honoured to be here. Before we enter the ochre site, Terry takes us through a moving ceremony in which he paints each of our faces. He explains that ochre was sacred to his culture and used in ceremonies that included births, deaths, marriages and initiations to convey the blessings of Mother Earth. It was traded right across Australia along trade routes that overlapped song-lines — a dreaming track that also marked the movement of creator-beings. Indigenous people navigated the land by singing songs that described features of the landscape — it was a GPS system that never failed them.
Terry scoops up some of the white ochre from the ground to mix it with the water we’ve brought along, forming a sticky paste. I feel the rush of wind in my hair as he places the first dots on my face. “White signifies spirituality and the spirit world”, Terry explains, “while black implies the material world”. He continues, “by placing this ochre on your face, I am opening up the connection between Mother Earth and you”. I’m reminded that both Buddhist and Hindus on the subcontinent wear simple white clothing to temple and that white is also the colour of mourning in Eastern culture. Terry explains that when Europeans first came to Australia, their white faces were mistaken for the spirits of their dead ancestors. When Europeans began to rape and massacre indigenous people, his ancestors feared they must have done something terrible to be punished in this way and did not offer resistance.
The sadness of what they have lost is always present although it does not dominate our discussions.
After each person has been adorned in the white ochre, he mixes up some yellow. I know that the yellow on the aboriginal flag represents the sun, the giver of all life. “It also signifies the dawning of a new day”, Terry explains as he paints new dots on my face.
It’s time to mix up some red ochre, symbolising the red earth on which we stand. But as he paints my face, Terry describes that he is tying up the umbilical chords that were cut at my birth, reconnecting me with Mother Earth so spiritual guidance can flow easily. Once again I am reminded of the similarities with my own traditions. In the east, a married woman wears a red dot on her forehead to symbolise her feminine energy. This is in contrast with the devilish and dangerous nuances of red in western culture, although it also implies love and a heart connection. This is the colour I am drawn to, today. My nomadic life has brought me to a much deeper connection with the natural world than I enjoyed previously and my creativity is inspired each day with the beauty that unfolds before me.
As I wait my turn to be painted with orange ochre I take time to breathe.
Orange is a symbol for our lungs and Terry reminds us to let go of any built up stress. I’m not stressed today but if I were, I’m sure it would automatically evaporate on coming here. It is a stunning location where the energy of past sacred ceremonies still vibrates. Here, on this very spot, for thousands of years, indigenous people have stood barefoot, completely plugged in and pulsating with the rhythms of the world around them.
I feel a twinge of sadness for what we have lost as a society.
Our ornate cathedrals, air-conditioned offices and plush homes create a barrier with the natural world, leaving us bereft of the reverence and dependence we once enjoyed. Imagine, walking on a trail and understanding what berries and roots were edible. Imagine knowing that the waterholes were safe to drink from because your cultural practices kept them sacred.
I feel quite moved as another colour is added to the collection of symbols on my face but surprised that its purple — it isn’t obviously visible in the landscape. “Purple is your liver”, Terry explains as his two fingers press into my temples. “It is a cleansing colour, so let go of any obstacles that might impede your progress and breathe freely again”.
We end the morning by lighting a fire to for a smoking ceremony. Fire was of obvious importance to all ancient cultures as it offered them warmth, kept them safe from predators and ensured a cooked dinner! The significance of the smoking ceremony is cleansing and I love the feeling of being enveloped in the fragrant smoke as the native leaves catch fire. Candles and oil lamps were part of my own cultural upbringing but I’ve only recently come to understand that lighting a candle during worship probably began not as a ritual, but from a practical reason of needing light, and as the years passed, well-meaning believers sought meaningful symbolism in what they did.
I feel alive and completely plugged back into the Universe.
It’s been an amazing day but I’m now feeling the pangs of hunger. Its time to head back to camp and indulge in some physical needs before our next lesson!
