“Hey, hello. Where are you going?”, the man asked as
he approached us with a cautious eye.
“Hello,” my partner, Megan, and I both smiled. The
man returned the smiled, one of the most beautiful smiles
I’d ever seen. It was genuine, from deep within.
“Nowhere,” I replied.
“Just down this road, then that track”, I pointed to where
the bitumen ended and continued down a sandy track.
The man continued to smile. “Perhaps crocodiles, be
careful.”
We nodded. Then, as if by afterthought, the man point-
ed toward the end of the road and told us to turn left at a
white post. He became excited by the prospect of us vis-
iting a men’s club where we would see the ‘most beautiful
art’. I must’ve looked surprised as I looked at Megan.
“It’s alright, everyone welcome,” the man beamed.
We thanked him. Unsure, we walked in the direction
he’d suggested.
We approached three structures. A large, longer one
seemed to be a gallery of some sort. Another to the right
was a ramshackle shed like building, surrounded by tools
and men, all laughing while watching us cautiously. The
third structure was nothing more than a shelter, a roof
without walls.
Welcoming smiles greeted us as we made our way to-
ward the men, a self-appointed spokesperson approached
and held out his hand. I took it and introduced myself,
the grip was strong yet not overpowering. It was warm,
comforting, welcoming.
From the corner of my eye I noticed a number of the
men casually working on a large log. Covered in the most
exquisite indigenous art I’d ever seen. I became trans-
TRAVERSE 42