Exchange Country

Part 2

Deforestation

shards of

salt

push thier way into the soles of my

feet

just as people pushed their way into the soul of our

land

colonization

deforestation

good waters swallowed up

forsaken

direct result of our trees

taken

in my attempt to fathom

I search for relief in the warm pink

waters

knowing that those shards are not going away

I will need to pass through them

once more

Since returning from up North a couple of months ago now, there is not a day I wake with out feeling privileged to have planned this trip to the south of W.A. To guide Juluwarlu artists Elder Wendy Hubert and Ava Christopher on Noongar Country. I feel especially lucky to do this with my daughter in my arms and my mother by my side, sharing my families stories. I would’ve loved to have brought my nana, Norma MacDonald. With strong ties to Yamatji Country, I chose to take these women to the places that my mother was born; where I was born; and where my daughter Kai was born—to my great, great grandfather’s country—to places where I reclaimed these important facets of who I am.

16th November 2023

Our feet first felt the sand at Dyoondalup ‘place of long flowing white hair’ with a welcome to country from emerging Whadjuk Noongar Elder, Robyn Jean (my mother). We spoke of these sand banks and their place in the Noongar Nyitting (Dreaming). We ate from the land and spoke about the many useful fauna and flora still around today. Traditionally an area for women and children, it was no surprise that they instantly felt at home and we started talking about how this place was already inspiring our artworks. Nana Wendy is a magical woman and showed me things I haven’t considered before—as if I were seeing through her eyes. With so many sites close to my heart and the potential to share them with these special Yinjibarndi women—the place of our songlines was the perfect beginning. It was like I was letting them see a part of my heart that hadn’t been touched before.

The first lunch on our road trip South was spent in the town Kai first learned to walk, where my husband and I lived in a tiny-house under the trees—home to the red-tailed cockatoo—frequently swam in the local dam, and camped out whenever we could. So, this dam was the best spot to stop and reflect on the history of the surrounding areas of Bindjareb Noongar Country.

We continued on our travels to Katanning, the big meeting place for Wilmen, Kaneang, and Koreng People. Where my great, great grandfather lived and worked and where my ancestors rest in peace. We stayed at The Premier Mill, far from any swag or camp fire. With its historical significance, it was a choice to stay here and have these hard conversations that are spoken about very little in the broader Western Australian community. Katanning became somewhere that supported the establishment of commercial orchards and vineyards. The Mill, one of the first in WA to be lit by electricity, ten years later supplied electricity to the town. Neighbor to Carrolup, these areas of agricultural settlement have been disastrous for our country and people belonging to these places. For example, the largest undercover sheep saleyards in the southern hemisphere are here.

Reflecting on this dispossession, I felt ill and had to head to bed. Nanna Wendy spoke to me about how this pain was showing up in my body as sickness.

I needed to move and shake it off.

17th November 2023

After getting off the phone with my husband and hearing him say “where your mind goes, energy flows,” I pushed myself to continue our journey, onto the heart of this trip.

We jumped out of the car to explore the Cranbrook’s Pink Lake (now on private land), which is the northmost of chain of salt lakes following a line of ancient waterways. Although these lakes are 'naturally salty’ they were once fresh and have become salinized through the removal of original vegetation—deforestation. My daughter Kai was in awe of the pink waters and we all marveled at the strange sensation of crunchy salt and warm waters. I enjoyed watching Nana Wendy with her wisdom of the land finding bush onions and sharing them with us. The silver lining was the sheer beauty, and just what my spirit required.

We were just a hop, skip and some red dust away from the heart of this trip: Koikyennuruff. The roads leading to the Stirling Ranges were like the veins circulating to and from this special place. I know them well; I had visited this spot four times when I was pregnant with my daughter and living with my husband in Mount Baker, on Minang Country. This sacred spiritual site is so breathtaking and the flora and fauna, still a source of inspiration.

We felt lighter leaving there, as mum likes to say “worry mountain, leave your worries behind you.”

I could see it in Wendy’s eyes, that camera shutter moment, taking mental photographs of the trees—the greens and grey, the iconic shapes. Nothing digital required for these women, they would capture this landscape in their creative minds, to paint what they saw a day later.

To ground ourselves after a time on the road we got together to do some weaving. Such a beautiful way to remember this time on country together. I sensed the reality of these discussions was heavy for us all. Although we were on the other side of W.A for them, both women had connections to this land and stories of their own to share.

18th November 2023

The following story, I questioned if I should leave out, mostly because it is personally embarrassing. Nevertheless, it was part of the experience.

We spend most of the morning together enjoying breakfast in Katanning, sharing the experiences we would love to paint, already eager to get back to Boorloo to start. A quick wander around the Katanning annual markets before getting back in the car to head home: my first home, to be exact.

We drive though the streets of Narrogin, the place of water, home to the beautiful mallee trees and, at one point, home to my family. Down the street to see my childhood home is… gone—the property vacant. I get out of the car for a second to stretch my legs and connect with the land, and—THUD—I quite literally connect. I fell as soon as I stepped foot on the property. I stay on the ground and look over at mum as I dust of my hands, we both had the same look on our faces… what just happened? There’s nothing like physically pressing you belly—the location of your umbilical chord—with your birthing place, where you sounded your first cries into the world. Now, I am almost 33 years old and crying in the exact same spot. Mum said she felt my late father there with me. Whatever the case it was a bazar moment in time and a very strange way to end a road trip.

Moving with these women has been an incredible journey, one that I am very privileged to participate in. I have priceless memories and stories of my time with them all on Yindjibarndi Country. I am left with a spirit that sings red dirt, hot sun, night stars and a body that screams for more damper. I have taken my daughter back to the country that I stood with her in my belly, and my own mother facilitating healing where I was in hers. I have told stories of destruction, and stories of dreaming. I moved softly and I feel proud like never before. I hope I have also made my ancestors and family, my husband and my people proud.

It has been a month since completing this blog of my time South, it took me longer than writing of my time going North. It is closer to home and closer to my heart. As a team we have already started letting our artworks flow, I have been so fortunate to spend time working on a colaborative artwork together with the Juluwarlu artists. Now all that is left is to paint. You will see information in regards to the Exchange Country Exhibition with the City of Melville soon.

Thank you for following this journey with me.

—E.R.

Robyn Jean, Kai Rose, Ava Christopher, Emily Rose, and Wendy Hubert.
Photography by Robyn Jean.