Thursday, October 20, 2011
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Monday, March 7, 2011
After a scorching week or so, a cooler space was an anticipated relief. Our familiar sky of blue was exchanged for the grey, familiar to me from my childhood. We were heading east for a wedding.
The week leading up to the celebrations was punctuated with a trip to the shops for a shirt, a tie, a pair of trousers and shoes. A short burst in Brunswick Street was refreshing as we take in the contemporary styles and met a woman asking for spare change a few times. She was working the street in one direction for what she needed and we the other for what we needed; a friendly engaging woman who was politely refused, although leaving a question about how each of us have different life experiences. My change of course had been swallowed by the parking machine and I had indulged with an affordable bunch of stunning red dahlias from the barrow in front of the florist on the Greeves Street Corner to give to my sister in law.
The traffic orderly but heavy, took us in a stop start way, with me thinking my way through which lane to chose. I am reminded of how it was in the larger city in the middle of the day. The peak hour on the freeway not that different from our usual experience but it was another story once you took your exit and the traffic locked down.
The afternoon at Monsalvat in the Great Hall was rewarded with a personal expression by the bride and groom of the reasons they were dressed up to celebrate with their friends and family. Attention to every detail. The light from the window where they stand shows of a stunning bride and the groom, who with gentle touch later glides with her across the dance floor: as if they had been dancing all their lives and would go on dancing with grace and ease.
Lots of chatting, laughter with food and drink a plenty.
All you need is love and boat to carry you away.
The taxi driver who ferries the three of us across Perth drives the evening shift until late, he says all bar one night when his wife says come home. He will not drive taxis for ever as he is a philopspher and says he is learning from his passengers how to make money whilst he sleeps, and how they drill for oil.
It is a balmy relaxed Sunday evening and we breathe in the fresh air and we are home again.
One small dog is ecstatic to have us back.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Untitled Boomerang Michael Riley (1960-2004)
Image from the cover of Maquarie Pen Anthologyof Aboriginal Literature. Edited Anita Hess and Peter Minter Allen &Unwin 2008
I have been reading biographies for a number of years now including some of the stories of about or by Indigenous Australians. Many have been moving and given insight into what Rob Riley referred to as a sanitized history.(Beresford Quentin. “Rob Riley: an Aboriginal Quest for Justice “Aboriginal Studies Press 2006)
I was fortunate to have a " good education" that I am aware excluded the telling of the stories of Indigenous Australians or indeed even a honest portrayal of contemporaneousness treatment of my indigenous peers in the 1950's and 1960's of my childhood. I guess I have been reeducating myself by reading ever since, so I found this volume a very helpful book.
During a recent visit to the Kimberley I was looking for a relevant read and came across: MacQuarie Pen Anthology of Aboriginal Literature edited by Anita Heiss & Peper Minter Allen & Unwin2008 in a Derby newsagent. This book would take me on a walk through another version of Australian history with excerpts from the written works of Indigenous publications dating from 1796 to 2006. It is a helpful volume that dispels many notions that are commonly held about our indigenous countrymen and women.
The book contains many memorable quotes and will give anyone seeking insight an excellent starting point as I am sure it will lead you to read many of the full texts available.
Each excerpt reflects on people who have something important to say.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
