THE first time I saw an Aborigine, he was drunk, shouting at the world in general and holding up a lamppost.
It’s a familiar but unfair picture – modern Aborigines are often viewed by Australians as heavy drinkers but 70% of Aborigines are still teetotallers. Unfortunately, the ones who do drink live in highly populated areas and thus attract attention to their addiction.
Introducing alcohol to Aboriginal life after thousands of years is said to be the equivalent of injecting westerners with heroin and not expecting addiction or repercussions.
Indeed, western society and its habits seem to be having an adverse affect on Aborigines.
Diabetes and heart problems are hitting city-dwelling Aborigines hard. Graham, the teacher on my Aboriginal Cultural Tourism course, explained that the diseases are a direct reflection of the “movement away from that which nourishes them” – namely, the land.
“The heart is about what gives you meaning and diabetes is about energy fluctuations in the being.
“Aborigines normally get their food from the land and the land is what gives them their identity, makes them who they are – Aborigines say that ‘without the land, we’re just black white men’,” said Graham.
“While Aborigines struggle to adapt to white western life, many are pointing their finger at us and saying it’s time to re-establish our connection with the land and our inner selves.”
And that’s what Graham promises to do, in the depths of the Djaril-Mari Forest, in the Perth Hills of Western Australia.
First stop is a rock, overhanging the forest. I sit on the rock with my fellow students and Graham tells us to shut our eyes and focus on the sounds surrounding us.
Birds such as the Kaa-kaa, Wardang and Damalak call to each other, the wind rustles through the trees and the sound of a distant car reminds us of nearby civilisation.
Graham then asks us where we can feel the rock’s energy in our bodies. I’ve an uncomfortable sensation of heartburn and point at my heart. Sure enough, this rock is where Aborigines send people to cure heart problems.
As we wind our way through the forest, I learn how the Aboriginal people use plants, trees and natural resources.
Stones aren’t just stones but spears and knives, trees become medicine and plants are healing treatments.
High on my nature kick, over the next few days, I cycle and walk through some of western Australia’s finest national parks. My aching muscles will always remember the region and the distances that I covered on the trip.
The John Forrest National Park is a mere nine miles from the Djaril-Mari Youth Hostel Association, where I’m staying.
Big bare rocks, sky-high flora and fauna and weird lizards line my route through the park. The lizards are called Bobtails and are certainly bicycle friendly – I have to swerve to avoid squashing the squat creatures.
I follow the route of the old Eastern Railway line, which passes westwards through the park. The Jane Brook waterfall drops down over massive granite rocks, which look across the valley to the Swan Coastal Plain.
It’s springtime in Western Australia and wildflowers blossom under an intense, blue sky. Grasstrees flank the trail. These only grow in Australia and nine of the 28 species grow in Western Australia. The plant looks like a palm tree with a tall spike at the top.
Aboriginal people use grasstrees for food, material for building shelter, tools, and fires. It all sets me wondering – just what they could possibly turn my bicycle into?