‘We’re all in the queue’: How writing helped Indira Naidoo understand death

Each week, Benjamin Law asks public figures to discuss the subjects we’re told to keep private by getting them to roll a die. The numbers they land on are the topics they’re given. This week, he talks to Indira Naidoo. The journalist, broadcaster and author, 54, is the host of ABC Radio’s Weekend Nightlife. Her books include The Edible Balcony and The Edible City. Her memoir, about her sister’s suicide, is The Space Between the Stars.

Indira Naidoo: “Everyone struggles with the vocabulary of grief: finding the words to express the emotion.” Credit: Tim Bauer

POLITICS

Your career in journalism has spanned TV and radio over three decades. Is politics a good topic to discuss, or are you over talking about it? No, it’s a good one. I’m a genuinely political animal. Politics was in our blood from a very young age. Both my parents were very political, especially having come through apartheid South Africa.

So growing up, politics was never taboo? We had to have a position on everything and anything. Even though my parents came from a progressive left position, they still wanted you to tear apart their position – on whatever it might be. If we were talking about apartheid – and the best way to dismantle it – was it isolation? Or was it by making sure that visitors to South Africa could see the way people were being treated? Even though we knew what our parents’ views were, there was still a sense that we could develop our own.

You’re one of the most recognisable faces and voices in media. Have you ever been approached to run for office? [Laughs] Yeah, by nearly every single party at some stage. Liberals, Labor, Greens, Democrats, you name it. Except the National Party! I don’t know why not, I look really good in an Akubra.

Have you taken any of those proposals seriously? No. It doesn’t suit my personality. I find it very hard to compromise, which I think is the art, essentially, of politics. If you want to have things your way all the time, you’re not going to be successful in politics. I’m in awe of people that make that sort of commitment.

Are you concerned about political correctness and cancel culture – or do your anxieties lie elsewhere? We’ve got to get real and look at who really has the power. A minister suing a soccer mum for defamation? You’ve got a parliamentary and media platform; you’re well paid; you’ve got access to good lawyers. It’s not a power-equal basis. If you’re someone who feels offended but are in a position where people can hear your voice, I don’t think [your grievance] should be given the same weight as [that of] someone who doesn’t have a voice. I believe my position in the media is to make sure that voices that don’t usually get heard are listened to more often.

MONEY

You were the ABC’s youngest national news host. You’re now a writer, broadcaster and spokesperson for Choice magazine. What’s been your favourite job? Probably a TV show called Under the Grandstand. There was an incredible series of events. The 2005 Ashes Test cricket series in England was a foregone conclusion, so Channel 9 decided not to broadcast it and none of the other commercial stations wanted to, either. SBS was the last one standing – Steven Bradbury-like – and got the rights. So [on weekends during the lunch breaks] we did this live evening show with a live audience and an open bar serving real alcohol. The audiences were sometimes a little inebriated and I ran the barbecue, cooking food from different cultures around the world. It was wild, unhinged and largely unscripted – and it happened as the 2005 Ashes series became one of the most famous of all time. We got some of the highest ratings SBS ever had.

What constitutes money well spent?
Food.

What’s money poorly spent?
Food wasted.

DEATH

Okay, we’re talking about death now. Good.

Why do you say that? I’ve spent the past two years investigating death, which I’ve always been terrified of. I thought it wasn’t ever going to happen to me, which is ridiculous. When a big death – like my sister’s – happens in your life, it blows you up. On top of it being a horrific, sudden, seismic, catastrophic event in our family, I also had to deal with the realisation – oh, my god! –that death actually happens. We don’t know when it’s coming or how far into the queue we are, but we’re all in the queue. Now I understand that. I didn’t before my sister died.

You call your youngest sister “Stargirl” in your book. What do you want people to know about her life? She was almost always the most charismatic person in the room. She was feisty and opinionated, fascinating and articulate. She was always so … alive, you know? She wasn’t shy. What she loved most was getting together with one or two people at a party, with a glass of wine, a smoke, then having a really deep-down conversation about politics and policy. She was obsessed with swimming. Nature, bushwalking, camping. As a journalist, she would work on a story for days and not sleep. As a political adviser, she’d sleep on the couch in the office overnight and not come home until things were done. She really thought that her role was to find better ways of living and helping the most people.

Because of COVID, only 20 people were allowed at her funeral. If that was an impediment to grieving, to what extent was writing this book an act of processing it? Oh, almost completely. Everyone struggles with the vocabulary of grief: finding the words to express the emotion. It’s almost impossible. There’s one phrase in the book where I came close: it’s the electrocution of grief. Every part of you is zapped. You completely shut down and enter this autonomous state: basic breathing, heart pumping. The rest of you is just in this electrocuting shock. Writing the book was a step towards finding the emotion. Rather than just being completely consumed by your grief, the writing process allows you to hover over yourself, gives you perspective. The writer in me probably saved me.

The story behind Indira Naidoo’s book Indira’s Tree will feature on ABC-TV’s Compass next Sunday, August 14, at 6.30pm. Naidoo will appear at the Canberra, Byron Bay, Tamar and Melbourne writers’ festivals in coming months.

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