By Phil O’Brien
In the first part of this tale Phil O’Brien introduces us to his early life in north-east Arnhem land, some of the locals – and not-so-locals – and the early days of the Yothu Yindi band and the formation of the Garma Festival.
You can read Part two of this tale here
Catalina Beach & campfires
It was the early nineteen-nineties, and I was living in a caravan on the beach near a pretty little place called Catalina, just a stone’s throw from the Gunyangara Community.
My next-door neighbour around the rocks on the next beach was Mandawuy Yunupingu and his family.
‘Munda’ as he was known, Yalmay his wife, and their big bunch of daughters were the nicest people you could ever meet.
Their door was always open and we got to spend a lot of really good times together.
Munda was an exceptional person, he’d risen to great heights with the band Yothu Yindi and they were touring the world sharing Yolngu philosophy and understanding via their own brand of powerful rock music, and they were blowing people away.
The one thing that always amazed me was on returning from a gruelling tour is Munda would – without a second’s hesitation – whip out the guitar and go through the Yothu Yindi repertoire around the campfire with as much gusto as he could muster.
He’d even repeat the favourites, and the campfire crowd of whoever was around would go wild, and Munda would just give, and give, and keep giving.
He was a bloke who knew who he was, and where he was going.
He was a visionary; an educator and he was proud to be Yolngu.
High times at the Croc farm in north-east Arnhem Land
The early nineties was an exciting time in north-east Arnhem Land. Yolngu across the region were starting projects and sharing ideas and visions, and because of Yothu Yindi’s popularity and Munda constantly extending the hand of friendship a lot of famous people were turning up!
At that time, I was working for the Gumatj Community at the Croc Farm Project and Munda, realising I was a bit of a musician as well and really interested in everything going on, would often try and involve me in some of the action.
‘Can you go and pick Jimmy Barnes and his family up at the airport’ he reckoned … bloody hell I nearly shit myself, Jimmy Barnes from Cold Chisel!
But there I was later that night leaving the little airport with Jimmy and his family in the vehicle, and I was trying to be cool, shitting myself, and the Toyota’s motor blew up. Bang! Smoke everywhere, and there we were on the side of the road … shame job.
A change of clothes for the cameraman
Then next day I nearly got the cameraman chomped on by a crocodile at the farm!
They were making a video, Jimmy’s kids and Munda’s kids, and they wanted a croc in the video, and me being an expert said its totally safe because I know this croc’s behaviour.
Well … I thought I did.
There we were, and it all went wrong, the biggest croc we had was about to start sucking on the cameraman like a paddle pop.
I had to jump in and hit the croc in the head with a half-frozen Trevally!
Well, let’s just say no one got killed, but there was a few tense moments with the cameraman having to go home and change his undies.
A Dead-Head in Arnhem Land
The excitement kept coming ‘Can you go pick up this American band at the airport’ Munda reckoned… they’re called ‘The Grateful Dead’.
Bloody Hell! The Grateful Dead! I was a nervous wreck but anyway picked them up at the old Nhulunbuy Airport then I dropped them off at a house near Catalina we’d got ready for them.
Everything was great except we forgot to turn the water on for that house, and they nearly perished. Next day they come staggering into the Croc farm and asked me if we had any water?
I said ‘Yeah, we got water,’ and they reckoned ‘Hey man … can we have some?’ Poor bugger’s, they looked pretty cooked.
Like I said it was exciting times, no two days were ever the same and life was never boring, far from it.
Yothu Yindi on fire!
Yothu Yindi had not only taken a unique style of rock music wrapped up in Yolngu perspective all the way to Europe, America, and many other countries but they inspired the local region, and north-east Arnhem Land was on fire … and Munda was the one that lit the match.
Nothing was impossible, no idea too big, no project out of reach, Yolngu culture was hitting mainstream, and it was game on!
At this stage of my story I’d just like to point out that at that time there was a lot of great leadership amongst the various clans, Munda’s older brother being one of the main driving forces in the region, and a really proactive Gumatj leader. Combined with a core group of Balanda (non-Aboriginal folk) that also believed in the potential of a Garma and were ready to put the effort in to support it.
Sowing the seeds – the first Garma Festival
The concept of a ‘Garma’ festival was now the talk around the campfire, and the ideas and excitement grew quickly.
Around the world Munda was a rock star, but at home he was full Yolngu and sharing his culture was what drove him.
He was an Educator and the concept of Garma was more than just a festival.
For Yolngu it was an opportunity to come together through ceremony and for Balanda to get the chance to experience a culture that had so much to offer – and then move forward together.
Slowly and patiently the Garma concept developed, and the fire burned bright, and in 1998 at a beautiful spot on top of an escarpment called ‘Gulkula’ Garma took shape.
Gulkula was a traditional Yolngu place for coming together and sharing knowledge that had featured in Yolngu folklore for as far back as time went … a dream finally was about to launch itself into a realty.
This first get together at Gulkula in 1998 was really a practice, a pre Garma just to see how it would all work, but there was also a lot of Yolngu ceremony that took place and important issues of the day were discussed around the campfire.
I suppose there was about fifty Balanda there and over one hundred Yolngu.
I had the job of cook – not because I was a cook, but I don’t think they could find anyone else – but I was used to being out bush and I was a lateral thinker, so the more people that come you just get bigger pots!
A 44 gallon toilet and a black-plastic shower stall
Money was pretty tight in those days and at Gulkula there wasn’t much in the way of facilities, there was bugger all.
For our toilet I dug a “long drop” and sat a half a forty-four-gallon drum on top with a hole cut in it and bolted a toilet seat on.
For the shower we had two shower bags you hang up in a tree and for privacy some black plastic wrapped around a few sticks and that was it.
We cooked on an open fire, and that was the humble beginnings of Garma.
End of Part One
You can read Part Two of this tale here
*****************************
A gifted observer and storyteller Phil O’Brien comes from the Northern Territory of Australia. His lack of formal education has been no drawback, and his creativity and passion to entertain and share a story has shone through. Phil O’Brien is well known as nomadic, and a bloke that isn’t burdened by financial security.
To see – and hear – more of Phil O’Brien head over to The Good The Bad and the Nomadic to hear some ‘epic stories from a bloke who was just taking life “one beer at a time”’ at Bandcamp. “
You can also grab a copy of You Can Always Find Someone To Have A Beer With!: The Phil O’Brien Collection at the ubiquitous Amazon.
*****************************
Leave A Comment
You must be logged in to post a comment.