explained what the other two are, and
while I marvel at how the boys could
throw a spear to such a height from
such a distance and land it in a one-
inch gap, I’m astounded by the other
two components. They contradict
what we, western culture, consider
‘right’ and ‘humane’. I realise there’s
still a vast gulf between our under-
standing of ancient cultures and
believes. Are our ways, so right?
The initiation ground leads to an-
other gallery. While waiting for eyes
to adjust to the gloom that feeling of
being watched returns.
Artwork adorns the walls of the
overhang; people, animals, hands
and wait … a foot. Traditional hand
paintings are accompanied by a
foot. Hands are painted for no other
reason to say, “I was here”, it seems
every culture, regardless of age has
graffiti artists. But a foot? Legend
suggests it was painted as if in pro-
test, everyone does their hands, why
not a foot? I smirk as I continue to
look around, I like this guy’s attitude.
The feeling of being watched is
growing, almost intense, overpower-
ing, yet still not sinister. The artwork
leads deeper into the cave and then
something catches my eye. A skull.
A human skull sits atop a pile of
bones. They’re not bleached white as
often is the case with bones left in the
Australian outback sun, yet they look
old. No one knows the exact age,
and the oldest of elders can’t recall a
name or even a clan, the bones have
always been here and will so to the
end of time.
We are being watched. Strangely,
these bones have been here for as
long as everyone can remember yet
no-one remembers who they belong
to. These bones are keeping watch
over the art, the history, the culture
and heritage. They watch over the
land. They watch over the visitors
ensuring that everyone takes much
more than photographs from the
area. Nothing physical, much more
important, it’s as if we are expected to
TRAVERSE 40
learn about the culture, to learn about
ourselves.
I’m compelled to photograph the
watcher, respectfully I refrain. Walk-
ing back to the track, past numerous
ancient masterpieces, I feel at peace.
It’s a calming sensation, an odd feel-
ing, of mindfully being relaxed.
This land is beautiful, stunningly
so, perhaps some of the most alluring
on the whole of the Australian conti-
nent. Riding back to our camp within
Kakadu, I felt I was seeing the land in
a different way, seeing beauty in ways
I hadn’t noticed before and vowed to
return to Arnhem Land. I needed to
watch … LW