Kaieltheban lotjpa woka
Biyala woka
Wala waka
Kaieltheban woka
Yorta Yorta speaking country,
Red gum country,
Wetland country,
A sacred land that has seen generations upon generations of experiences.
It has witnessed floods many times, bigger than we have seen in our lifetimes.
It has seen ecosystems intact, from beyond the rivers and sandhills into the drier box country and rocky hills.
It has witnessed things that only it could.
As importantly, it has witnessed our ancestors, here, deeply intertwined with the land, living and breathing with the land as one.
Our ancestors knew that in order to last here for generation upon generation, they needed to be one with the land and all living beings, both physical and non-physical, held within it and upon it.
They had to be one with the movements through each passing day.
The sunrises, the birds bringing it forth with baiyiya — song.
The sunsets and the yinya — light moving through the trees, slowly retreating to allow duta — stars — and yurri — moon — to have their moments for us to be one with them.
Under the elements all ancestors held roles, knowings, learning, ways that informed their ways of being, that guided how each may move within this oneness.
This oneness comes from a deep, deep place beyond tangibility, although it does manifest in the physical.
It is in the air we breathe and beyond. In the sun that shines on trees and in them. It is in us. It compels always to remember to return home to it.
There are many ways that we may do this now.
The now, of course, is a time when many things have changed.
Our land, though still sacred beyond measure in every way to us, is not as it was then in that, as we know, much damage has occurred to it.
Perhaps the greatest damage of all that is that we were removed from our free, rightful relationship to it through both the severe loss of our peoples during early colonial times, and mission life, which prohibited ‘us’ being ‘us’ in a rightful manner of our own accordance, in alignment to our oneness of living with and alongside, Country and ancestors.
As we know, this occurred with the intentional separation of us from land by colonists and outlawing of culture therein as the land was then subsequently reallocated to colonists on an accord that left us as custodians out of the equation.
The fate of both the land through widespread clearing to make way for broad-scale agriculture and the impact on our peoples and our kinship systems intricately woven for thousands of years is indeed a deep scar that is impossible not to feel.
Being a part of a continuum of 60,000-plus years in this place, one may imagine such wounds are still very much present.
In recent generations, we have been working towards how we move through the pains and past these horrors of the past to reinstate our inherent ways of being in oneness with land, ancestors and our obligations within that in a world that is so vastly changed.
Although our oneness with woka can never be severed entirely — for it is intrinsic within us as a part of us as though limbs and organs of their own functioning beyond the physical — the work toward this oneness to be at its optimum for not only us but for all to benefit, requires deep ongoing work.
Dare I say it ‘intergenerational’ — in the same way that colonial upheaval has been going on intergenerationally.
Collectively, as original custodians and all living here in our woka, we must know where we are now, what we stand on, and how we can stand for those things.
Not just place names and addresses but a deep relational knowing.
A knowing that is centred on place and kinship to it and, subsequently, one another.
Part of that comes back to then, how we heal.
How we mend from a place of deep damage and displacement.
This healing is crucial. It cannot be skipped past.
One way that we can and have begun to do so as custodians is through the reassertion of connectivity to land with the intention of working towards healing these wounds.
Not just for us, but for all living beings and other peoples living upon this land.
Feeling through where we actually are and how that relates to the land can give clues to guide us as to what is next.
Many thoughts come through this relationship with land, such as what is missing today on the land, in the forests, in the towns and everywhere in between among communities and society at large living on these lands.
One cannot do this meaningfully without reflecting on what has come before.
We must be able to reflect on what has happened before and, in doing so, reflect on where healing may be required, where bridges may need to be built, where compassion can be sown, and where an understanding of how we can walk forward in a sense of collective understanding of how truly dear and special it is to be able to call this place home on our ancestral lands.
We believe there is opportunity for all to step into feeling deeply around what has come before, and where we go together in the monumental moment that January 26 provides us all each year.
We believe if there is one way we can move towards an anchored space of collective healing and shared home on this sacred woka, then it must start with knowing and reflection.
Reflection on the tragedies and how they still affect us with the gaps to collective healing as a basis to move forth from.
In the words of my Great Uncle Sir Douglas Nicholls, ‘We want to walk with you, we do not wish to walk alone.’
And so, this year, we will take this day to reflect, as evoked by the Day of Mourning event on Gadigal Land in 1938 led by a number of our very own Yorta Yorta ancestors.
We will do this through our January Day Dawn Service for the fourth year running at Kaieltheban Park, Mooroopna.
Rising with the sun, reflecting, connecting, and seeking to find that place of care, love of place, and the opportunity for the most sacred way forward on this land, unified in oneness with the land, through being connected in truth to it.
Walking in reflection towards healing, respect, reverence, and hope for the most sacred future possible here on this our dhoma woka.
There is a galnya dana dorra dorra yarrwul wuta yepenkepuk — a good path to be walked for all together.
A good path to work towards that deeper sense of moving in accordance with the oneness that is there within, moving on and with land and thus community. It awaits us all.
So we invite you also – with dhomodhomonga murrangurrang — love always. Always, just as our ancestors did before us and guide us to now, on this path.
Join us at Kaieltheban Park (off Archer St, Mooroopna) at 6am on January 26 for the Wulumbarra and Still Here 2024 Dawn Service.
Neil Morris
Yorta Yorta yiyirr, Still Here Arts and Culture