A journey of cultural discovery and reflection

And, although I was there thanks to a media pass from The Riv, I found myself as the daily yoga teacher at the site, my journey to Garma was a deeply personal one.

The Garma Festival is held on Yolngu land, 30 minutes from Nhulunbuy in north-east Arnhem Land.

I was born in Nhulunbuy 50 years ago when my parents, Ken and Shirley Horkings, were living and working 420km west at the Raminginging Aboriginal community with my older sister, Rachel.

Dad was working for the Uniting Church mission as a mechanic and was sharing his skills, while immersing himself in ancient Yolngu culture and coaching the local footy side.

We were among only a handful of Balanda (white people) in the community, where we stayed for only a few years.

Since the 1970s, we have been lucky to revisit Ramingining on a few occasions, where you still need a permit to visit and it is a dry community with no alcohol allowed.

Culture and tradition is strong in Arnhem Land but the communities who live across the various Homelands face many challenges.

One of the reasons for this year’s visit was to research a novel that I started writing five years ago that is based loosely on my parents’ experience moving from Frankston (south-east of Melbourne) to remote Arnhem Land.

When I completed the first draft in early 2021 I quickly realised that to accurately and respectfully complete this story I would need to spend extended time to fully understand this lesser-known culturally rich corner of the country.

Therefore, to celebrate my 50th birthday I planned an epic return trip from Darwin to Nhulunbuy by road, two weeks solo in Nhulunbuy and five days out at Garma to fully allow the red dust of Arnhem Land to seep into my psyche.

My month-long trip began with a week in Darwin with family before a couple of adventurous friends flew in for the two-day drive across to Nhulunbuy, navigating the 1000km mostly red-dirt Central Arnhem Hwy.

We journeyed through remote Aboriginal communities and rested overnight at Mainoru Station Store, to cool off in its fresh water river, surrounded by lush green lawn — a sight for sore ‘dust-filled’ eyes. We made it and spent a few days enjoying the relaxing coastal vibe on Nhulunbuy (aka Gove).

Arriving in Nhulunbuy always feels familiar to me, although I’ve only visited a handful of times since 1975.

Many Australians might not be aware of the significant role this part of the country has played in the political landscape of our country.

Yirrkala (10 minutes from Nhulunbuy) is the birthplace of Aboriginal land rights in Australia, where the bark petitions were created before being sent to the Australian parliament in 1963 in response to mining leases being granted on Yolngu land without consultation.

The bark petitions contained important messages and questions about the proposed bauxite mine from Yolngu elders and were the first traditional documents to be recognised by the Australian parliament.

Further south down the coast at Blue Mud Bay, a sea-based version of native title was recognised in 2008 with the landmark High Court decision that recognised the Djalkiripuynu people’s rights over the intertidal zone, giving rights to exclude others from entering their sea country — aiming to protect fishing and other important cultural activities.

Visiting the Garma Festival provides a unique opportunity to witness the political agitation and determination that has always existed for the traditional owners of Arnhem Land.

For the Yunupingu brothers (of Yothu Yindi fame), Garma has always been about showcasing an ancient culture and creating a sense of pride and confidence for its people.

And importantly, as a platform for politics, education and understanding.

After 25 years, Garma is now an internationally recognised festival, ranked by Qantas in the top five world cultural events in 2024 and as one of the world’s top festivals with Diwali in India and Day of the Dead in Mexico by the Sydney Morning Herald.

It is also a profound spiritual experience.

Each evening the colourful bunggul (traditional song and dance) filled the air with song, dust and dance for hours on end and was a feast for the eyes and ears.

By day, Yolngu locals with big smiles and open hearts proudly shared masterfully crafted artwork and natural remedies they had methodically prepared — all ancient practices, steeped in tradition and ritual.

Not to mention the world-class local music, led by the legends of Australian rock Yothu Yindi, who took to the main stage each evening to entertain, alongside award-winning talents such as Emily Warramurra and Xavier Rudd.

A different kind of spiritual experience could also be found in the quieter moments of the festival, sombre displays of keening (audible crying) by mourning Yolngu women, and bathing in the bush in traditional healing remedies lovingly prepared by local women that literally brought me to tears.

I was also moved by the immense pride and passion Yolngu have for their culture, their traditions and their people, but felt a deep sadness for the monumental challenges they continue to encounter.

Yolngu people are faced with some of the worst health statistics in Australia, suffering high rates of preventable deaths, including coronary heart disease, type two diabetes, renal failure and suicide.

Causes include the lack of understanding of traditional practices by policy makers, lack of access to information in their language (a basic human right), lack of knowledge and understanding between lifestyle choices and health and poor access to quality healthcare, housing and education.

Long-time Yolngu community development advocate and educator Richard Trudgen (author of Why Warriors Lie Down and Die) who worked at Ramingining with my parents in the mid-1970s, has worked with the Yolngu people of north-east Arnhem Land for almost 50 years and believes that their health outcomes are worse now than 30 years ago.

During my time in Nhulunbuy researching my novel, more than one local person claimed that Garma had become too big, too corporate and too political.

I would argue politics is the point of Garma, especially given the terrible health statistics for Yolngu people.

You can’t admire the ancient culture on one hand and ignore the politics of the situation on the other.

Admiring this ancient culture on display in all its glory is awesome and inspiring, but failing to acknowledge the wider social, cultural and health crisis playing out in Arnhem Land is a missed opportunity and a tragedy.

When Gumatj clan members originally gathered at Gulkala 25 years ago, their aim was to bring pride and confidence back to Yolngu people and to educate the rest of the country, and Garma continues to do this to a high standard.

It’s an education every Australian should witness with an aim to better understand our First Australians so we can do better.

As a white, middle-aged woman with a life of privilege, Garma has taught me to look around my own country and know better its full history and try to understand, or at least acknowledge, what has occurred in the 237 years since Britain colonised Australia and the ongoing consequences of it.

I don’t have any answers to the many issues that face the Yolngu people and many other Indigenous Australians, but I understand that I need to listen and learn and do what I can.

Although I have a personal connection to Arnhem Land thanks to the brave and pioneering experience of my parents, I also realised that we don’t have to travel all the way to the Garma Festival to experience or learn about Aboriginal culture.

Aboriginal culture exists everywhere across our country and is proudly shared by its descendants on Yorta Yorta land here in Echuca-Moama, in Naarm (Melbourne) Lutruwita (Tasmanian) and further north on Gadigal (Sydney) and Meanjin (Brisbane) lands, and everywhere in between.

We just need to take the time to stop, listen deeply and learn the full history of Australia, without judgment and with an open heart.

I made the return road trip from Nhulunbuy to Darwin with my brother Jamie and his son Kelly, who flew in for the drive and an unexpected afternoon at Garma, which was incredible for them.

Our drive back down the Central Arnhem Hwy was filled with buffalo, donkey and dingo sightings and included visiting every remote community football ground in every remote community. We’re still finding red dust in our belongings weeks later.

I did not finish writing my book in Nhulunbuy, which means that I’ll be heading back at some stage to continue my listening and learning.

What I did learn in Arnhem Land, and what will be the premise of my story, comes from the well-known saying from Maya Angelou that we should “Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better.”

My hope for the people of Arnhem Land and the challenges they face is that when enough of us know better, then maybe we can do better — and do more.