A sorry tale of sorcery and payback in Yuendumu

YUENDUMU'S Watson family are in mourning. Grieving parents, siblings, cousins, a grandchild in a nappy sit under a tree on the periphery of town.

YUENDUMU'S Watson family are in mourning. Grieving parents, siblings, cousins, a grandchild in a nappy sit under a tree on the periphery of town.

The family, their foreheads streaked with thick white paint, are "in sorry", as sorry business is called in this socially riven desert community about 300km from Alice Springs. As dogs jostle for space on the blanket, the family lights a camp fire, passes around Arnott's biscuits and cold frankfurters, and converses in rapid-fire Warlpiri, their first language.

Jill Watson, a thin, statuesque woman, is mourning her youngest son, 21, who was killed in the violent Alice Springs town camps last month (he cannot be named for cultural reasons). She tells The Weekend Australian her family plans to "do sorry" for up to four months, eating and sleeping in their makeshift camp. (Later, they find time for a game of cards in the backyard of a nearby house.)

Jill Watson (also known as Jill McDonald) explains that she and her loved ones are avoiding memories of her deceased son, a talented Australian football player and a father of four, including a six-month-old baby. "We sleep outside," she says. "We don't want to go back to our house because of our memories."

Sebastian Watson, also an outstanding footballer, a fomer police aide and father of two, was stabbed three times in the same fight that killed his brother.

The 24-year-old has emerged as the family's grim-faced spokesman in this story of alleged murder, revenge and the collision of ancient beliefs and 21st-century laws in Australia's red heart; a story that has thrust this dusty speck of a settlement on to television screens and newspaper front pages around the country. The saga spans two states, and has involved South Australian Premier Mike Rann and Northern Territory Chief Minister Paul Henderson.

When police prevented the Watsons from carrying out payback punishment, the extended clan rioted in Yuendumu, provoking the evacuation of 101 residents - many of them "sworn enemies" of the Watsons - to Adelaide a fortnight ago.

(Seventeen people belonging to or affiliated with the Watson clan, including Sebastian, have been charged over the riot. Three others have been charged over the alleged murder of Sebastian's brother and the alleged stabbing of Sebastian on September 2.)

Behind this tragedy and its dramatic aftermath lie a bitter family feud and unresolved tensions between modern beliefs and ancient indigenous superstitions, tribal justice and contemporary laws.

This week The Australian revealed that the mass exodus of the Watsons' adversaries was more like a mass eviction. After the Watsons' demands for tribal punishment were denied, they struck an extraordinary agreement with traditional landowners to permanently ban at least 30 of their "sworn enemies" from their homes.

The agreement says that 22 of the Watsons' enemies, plus an entire family, "have been named by the Watson family being asked (sic) to leave the Yuendumu community . . . and not return for life". The document is signed by the Watsons and three traditional landowners. None of those who fled the community signed it, however, making it legally questionable, according to experts. It remains to be seen whether the agreement will have cultural authority in this red-dirt community where traditional beliefs co-exist with post-modern innovations. In a town where hunting, sorry business and initiation ceremonies are commonly practised, every second adult seems to own a mobile phone and satellite dishes perch on the roofs of many rundown, sparsely furnished houses.

Sebastian Watson says the blood feud between his extended family and their rivals can be traced to the death of his 18-year-old cousin, who had cancer and passed away two years ago at Yuendumu. The Watsons' adversaries claimed a curse had been put on the cousin; that his cancer was the result of sorcery. (Ironically, Sebastian's older brother, Derek, also has cancer. He was receiving treatment for leukemia in Darwin when he learned of his younger brother's death and returned home. Police allege he took part in the riots and he is now in custody.)

These sorcery claims are well known around Yuendumu, a desert settlement of breeze-block homes - some with their windows painted black - set among rubbish-strewn yards, a grassless football oval and pristine community pool. According to Sebastian and others interviewed by The Weekend Australian, sorcery allegations have become a "really, really big problem here".

Sebastian reveals some community members blamed last year's swine flu outbreak, which hit indigenous communities hard, on this dark art.

One expert on Yuendumu, who did not want to be named, says every Aborigine he knows believes in sorcery, even if they are urbanised or practising Christians.

"It is an essential part of the culture," he says.

Many blame the deaths or serious illnesses of relatives on sorcery, while others consult traditional healers or sorcerers if they are ill. This expert explains that sorcery allegations figure in many community disputes at Yuendumu. The introduction of alcohol to such incendiary situations, combined with disputes over land or control of community organisations, "blows the lid off this volcano".

But Yuendumu, populated by about 800 Warlpiri people and a sizeable number of white support workers, has also been a sanctuary for those fleeing accusations of sorcery. In her 2008 book Yuendumu Everyday, a study of contemporary life in remote Aboriginal Australia, Yasmine Musharbash documents a case in which a young woman called Amy from the Alice Springs town camps contracted a serious illness that doctors could not diagnose.

"Since her illness could not be determined with certainty, everybody suspected sorcery, and Amy had to find a safe place to stay," Musharbash writes.

For her own protection, Amy left Alice Springs, avoided her in-laws and stayed with a grandmother in Yuendumu until she recovered.

When The Weekend Australian visited this week, an uneasy calm prevailed at Yuendumu, known for its successful anti-petrol sniffing program, flourishing art centre and footy mania. (There are five AFL teams in the town, which is home to the highly regarded Yuendumu Magpies, who wear the Collingwood strip.)

The community's local hero and most famous export is Liam Jurrah, who plays with Melbourne. The Watsons' deceased brother was a gifted ruckman. He flew to Melbourne earlier this year and was named man of the match in a warm-up game at the MCG.

"Curtain raiser!" whispers Jill Watson proudly.

This young man's funeral is to be held on November 8 - the day he would have turned 22 - at the remote community of Nyrripi.

Yuendumu boasts more infrastructure than many other indigenous communities, including a youth centre, daycare centre, clinic, women's shelter, old people's home, work-for-the-dole office and a basketball court covered with an elaborate sunshade that looks like something out of Star Wars.

Property damage from the riots is largely confined to one street and a handful of incinerated cars, although the interiors of the affected houses have been thoroughly trashed. Televisions and windows have been smashed, clothing and household utensils dumped outside and sometimes, set alight. These houses' front and back doors remain wide open; the residents clearly left in a hurry.

Several people were assaulted during the unrest, and coursing below the surface of this isolated town, where packs of feuding dogs haunt the streets, is a current of fear: even neutral residents are frightened of speaking publicly, lest they be seen as taking sides.

Sebastian Watson was angry when he saw The Weekend Australian taking photographs of the damage caused by the riots, but did nothing to stop this. Watson, who has been charged with numerous riot-related offences, including carrying an offensive weapon (a large knife), says that several days after his brother's death on September 10, he, his family and other relatives returned home shocked and angry. His brother died eight days after the fight, and his siblings and parents had been expecting that he would survive.

Dennis James Nelson, 20, has been charged with murdering Watson's brother. Nelson lived just two doors away from the Watson family home and is the grandson of community leader Harry Nelson, who left with 100 other residents for Alice Springs and then on to Adelaide. So far, Nelson, whose house was ransacked, has declined to speak to the media.

Sebastian Watson speaks with steely conviction about the need for payback, which he prefers to call tribal punishment.

He warns that "if they (the exiles) come back without agreeing to traditional punishment, there will be more riots".

But if the exiles agree to tribal punishment, "they can come back". He says that if there is no tribal punishment, the community's tinderbox tensions "will go on for years and years".

"Our sons will pass it on to their sons; it's like Muslims and Jews," he says.

There are precedents for such marathon blood feuds at Yuendumu. The Weekend Australian understands a dispute involving two teenage girls from the town fighting over a boy played out over eight years. Despite being convinced that spearing certain members of the rival clan will dissolve tensions within his town, Sebastian Watson admits he would not know how to stab someone in the leg without severing an artery.

This is because tribal punishment is a tradition largely lost to his 20-something generation - he blames this on the encroachment of Western culture and law.

On the other hand, family friend and football coach Lindsay Williams, a round-faced, congenial man, claims that a tribal punishment was carried out in the local area as recently as 2002.

Other family members recall women engaging in traditional payback fighting. However, there have also been reports of payback being misused against the families of indigenous women who report to the police powerful men who rape or bash them.

Support for the Watsons' demand for tribal punishment came from unlikely sources this week. Rex Granites is a Sydney-based elder related to the people expelled from Yuendumu. He says that tribal punishment should be inflicted on members of his own family.

"I would say yes to that because it means it is opening the way for the families to be partners as a group in the community again," Granites says.

He claims that such punishment still occur in many remote Aboriginal communities.

He also pointed out that many people who were not involved in the family tensions had been caught up in the mass expulsion from Yuendumu.

"They're innocent people, and I feel that it's not right," Granites says.

Another improbable supporter of tribal punishment is conservative politician Adam Giles. Giles, the NT Country Liberal Party's indigenous affairs spokesman, told The Weekend Australian that the Yuendumu dispute was "a seriously difficult situation".

He implies that demands for tribal punishment should be taken seriously. "I think we must respect the motivations behind the desire for tribal punishment," he says, adding that society could not take on some parts of Aboriginal culture to promote tourism "and forget the other parts".

But the Northern Territory government and police are firmly opposed to any form of traditional punishment, as this would breach assault laws. Acting Senior Sergeant Shaun Gill, the officer in charge of the Northern Territory's southern region, says: "We just can't stand by and allow one person to assault another."

Northern Territory authorities believe this infinitely complex dispute can be resolved through mediation. A spokesperson for Henderson said: "We think it's appropriate to let mediation take place and we would obviously like the safe return of those community members in South Australia."

Several government mediators have been dispatched to Yuendumu and Adelaide, while the police are keeping in close touch with the Watsons. Says Sergeant Gill: "Ultimately, the way forward is by mediation and negotiation. Our aim is to get the people (exiles) back into the community as soon as we can."

A worthy objective, but one that in this culturally complicated and profoundly divided community is easier said than done.