Didge heroes, crocs and adventure in an adopted homeland for ‘concrete Koori’

It was late 1997 and, through the Koori grapevine, I was informed that Bangarra dance company was seeking 20 urban-based didgeridoo players to rehearse for a proposed event titled The Festival of the Dreaming.

The “Dapper Didge” player Blak Douglas.

Very much a novice player, yet armed with my didge, loincloth and white ochre, I proudly made my way to Bangarra’s wharf studios. I’m positive it wasn’t my overconfidence got the gig but the fact I cut a very fine figure back when I wore a younger man’s “lap-lap” that caught the professional eyes of Josh and Zach Page of electro-folk Rock duo Brothers Page, and Aunty Rhoda Roberts.

This would be the rehearsal of change. A fortnight later, I’d be participating in my first performance at the Sydney Opera House before an audience of several thousand.

Standing in the make-up tent adjacent to the Opera House steps, I was among renowned Aboriginal didgeridoo legends, some internationally acclaimed. A cacophony of kookaburra calls and impressive styles ensued, but then I heard the most incredible, deep rhythm coming from the neighbouring tent.

I immediately walked towards the sound and witnessed the masterful Jonathon Munyarryun. He was to lead the performance alongside famed brother Djakapurra. I’d never met a Yolngu person and was mesmerised by how he played the yidaki (didgeridoo). Wasting no time, I asked how I could learn to play like him. Jonathon replied, “You’ll have to come up home to Dhalenbuy.”

Blak Douglas and a young Yolngu chaperone on the air strip at Dhalenbuy.

I’d never been on a plane, let alone left the state. Emphatically, I said I would – but how would I find him once I got there? He said, “Here’s my mobile number, come the second Wednesday [of the month] and meet me at the shopping centre at Gove.”

Sensing I was a “concrete Koori” upon handing over the keys to my airport-hire ute, the manager advised me to be extra careful when driving at night in Arnhem Land. “Yer gotta watch out for two things when night-driving: buffaloes and the locals. Ya don’t wanna hit either.” Fair call.

Exiting Gove Airport, my first observation was the intensity of the humidity. At a payphone outside the shopping centre I began dialling Jonathon’s number, but before it connected I heard a whistle and a female voice yelling, “Adam!”

Douglas with his Archibald Prize-winning portrait Moby Dickens in 2022.Credit: Brook Mitchell

Turning, I notice Janet [Jonathon’s sister]. “Yo. You got mootigar?” I replied yes, pointing to the ute. Facing the nearby scrub, Janet whistled loudly, and in an instant the rear of the ute was filled with half the clan.

Dreams of achieving the whole yidaki experience were thwarted by the beginnings of the wet season: raindrops the size of tennis balls, and mosquitoes for that matter, too.

I recall the veritable life-changing experience of the trip being a fishing adventure on the third day with a family group comprising a baby, several jarjums [children], Janet, Jonathon and a senior aunty.

Arriving at our spot, we were to cross a murky estuary to navigate toward the designated area. Aunty walked ahead and stood knee-deep in the water and began singing in lingo. Then she motioned us to cross. Sensing my trepidation, a member of the family placed the baby on my shoulders. I was entrusted with ensuring that we both wouldn’t become lunch for baru [saltwater crocodile]. #gulp

Air to the drone, 1999, was painted by Douglas after his trip to Arnhem Land.

My summer of ’97 was a snapshot of the holistic beauty and strength of tribal Aboriginal society versus the authoritarianism and constraints placed upon urbanised cultures. Such an experience certainly reinforces the harsh reality of just how much work Australia has to do in appreciation of its original inhabitants.

Adam “Blak” Douglas is a musician and Archibald Prize-winning artist.

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