POORNARTI ABORIGINAL TOURS
As I stand mid- way up the side of Bluff Knoll , in the Stirling Ranges , I see the low white cloud nestling the summit and , Joey Williams , Aboriginal Elder and Loreman , sings in language , accompanied by the tapping of his clap sticks . The sound seems ancient and the hairs on the back of my neck raise , and I shiver . Joey tells me that the Noongar spirits return to Bulla Meile , the ‘ hill of many eyes ’, as it is known to his people , and the looming rock faces jutting out of the rock above me , are the faces of his ancestors . I feel the eyes upon me and begin to intuit why this is ‘ power ’ place .
I have travelled in this south -western region of Australia before , walking the Bibbulmun track , which runs from Perth to Albany , on the south coast . People I walked with were able to tell me the botanical names for the plants I saw , the geological features of the landscape , and stories of farming and the early explorers and settlers . However I wished to connect more deeply , I felt like I was merely touching the surface and I want to connect with the culture who had lived so intimately with this land for many thousands of years before white settlement . So I was delighted to come across Poornarti Aboriginal Tours and they seemed to be the only gateway into Aboriginal culture open to me in this region .
On the road here , to this spiritual heartland of the Noongar people , as well as telling us the Dreamtime stories of the area , of the waalitj ( eagle ), whos wings formed the mountains , Joey has regaled our small group , over the bus PA system , with stories of his life . He tells us of living in the bush with his parents , of them working for the farmers for crates of tea and flour , to clear their own land , to fence them out , of hunting yonger ( kangaroo ), karda ( goanna ) and other animals with his father , and of collecting bush tucker with his mother . Joey only spoke in Noongar until he was 8 years old . I am in no doubt of this mans authenticity , his deep and proud connection to his culture , and am impressed by his passion to share and educate wadjella ’ s ( white fellas ) like me !
Amazingly , also , Joey has managed to transform the ubiquitous roadside vegetation , “ lots of quondong here ”, he remarks , “ those ones with the light green shiny leaves …. you can see the fruit starting to turn red ”.
Sure enough , now my eye is trained , I see them everywhere . At the campsite , we pitch our tents , which thankfully , Poornarti has provided for us . While Poornarti staff , in the camp kitchen , are preparing the evening meal , we are taken on a bush tucker walk . “ This is our supermarket ”, Joey explains , “ you can get everything you need here ” and sure enough , amongst the strange plants and trees , Joey reveals to us Aboriginal equivalents of potatoes , spices and herbs , salads , fruit , tea and even a ‘ lolly ’ tree . There are medicines too , one of which is the crystalised sap of a gum tree , which was used for stomach problems . “ Don ’ t you try this ,” Joey advises , “ the ol ’ Noongars knew exactly how much to take , you don ’ t . Too much can make you sick ”.
There is a rich kangaroo stew for dinner . Joey also has some tails to cook on the fire . He shows us how the fur is first singed and scraped off , before laying them in the fire . There are roundels of damper , which are also lain in the coals . We try the bush tea , which is similar in colour to green tea , and in my opinion , much nicer . Joey tells us of the diet of bush tucker he had as a child , and how the cooking fire was a focus of family life . There is a funny story of how , in the preparation of karda , or goanna , the sinews in the legs must be cut first before cooking , otherwise they contract from the heat , making the dead animal ‘ stand up ’ in the coals , which would frighten the children . He tells us of the cooking techniques , for eggs , fish , wild duck , koonacs and bardi grubs . I am struck by how varied their traditional diet actually was , a veritable smorgasbord !
When the roo tails are done , I try them both . On one the meat is tender and moist and falls off the bone , and I find myself sucking on the vertebrae to extract the juice and gelatine . It is quite delicious . The other tail is as tough as shoe leather , and Joey says it must have been an old roo . We watch a beautiful sunset and as the stars come out our group gathers around the fire . It is a clear night and the big sky is spectacular . There are shooting stars in abundance . Joey tells us Aboriginal stories of the stars and their meanings . There is one of an emu , that we can clearly see when it is pointed out . The position of the emu ’ s legs at different times of the year , signify when the emu ’ s are hatching their eggs .