Well 2008 is off to a good start. The TownAce's engine has been rebuilt. It's got a new battery and my storytelling energy has been renewed by some time near waterfalls and rivers and forest.
I wonder what wonders 2008 will bring?
We have an exciting project happening with the Indigenous Elders of the Inala Yarning Place Singers. It will finish with a concert and DVD. It's great working with Aunty Vi and Aunty Edna with K.B. and Getano Bann.
In May we're looking forward to working with Elders in the Northern Territory community of Ali Curung.
I'd really like this year to get some of my own CD's and DVD's together as well. Any suggestions?
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Friday, January 11, 2008
We're Off to See the Wizard
Well we didn't follow the Yellow Brick Road, it was the New England Highway and the Newell all the way to Deniliquin. The wizard is Karen's father and he's a wizard at growing tomatoes and book-keeping and he's not bad at telling a story or a yarn when he gets going as well.
The drive down, 2 days, was safe and relatively uneventful. We noticed our regular markers of progress - Cunninghams Gap rainforest, the church at Warwick, the turnoff to Giraween National Park, the location of the old state border gates at Wallangarra, the old emu and kangaroo farm gate posts south of Uralla etc.
They all tell little travelling stories. This time though we can add some different markers.
There was a TV cameraman vidoeing a bunch of flowers left near the site of a tragic truck/car smash that claimed the lives of four teenagers near Warwick. That reminded me of another dramatic smash scence we had driven past on the Newell Highway some years back. A truck driver had gone to sleep and driven his rig through a caravan, totally obliterating it and smashing finally into a substantial ironbark. He looked very dead.
On a brighter note, we finally stopped at Mother of Ducks Lagoon at Guyra, something I've been meaning to do for years. Wasn't much water in the lagoon (in fact it was pretty much dry) but it was good to read about how the local tribe had lived around it and used it for so long.
The Xanthorrheas in the burnt Goonoo State Forest south of Mendooran that had been so easy to see against the blackened and blasted landscape last trip were now casting seed and starting to merge into the regrowth of ironbarks and daisies and acacias.
As we walked around taking photos we disturbed a small stick exposing the white ants underneath to the marauding meat ants. They charged in, seized little golden termites in their pincers and galloped off towards their nest.
There is something very affirming about seeing this regrowth happening. The hard black Xanthorrea seeds will find their place in the soil ready for the next bush fire to create the right conditions for germination. These ecosystems worked out how to adapt to fire long ago. I wonder if we humans could be smart enough to take advantage of fire like this? Aboriginal communities all over Australia have been practicing 'fire stick grazing' for millenia. We should be able to come up with a whole range of possibilities.
Further south, at Alectown, between Peak Hill and Parkes, the garden full of whirlies and gnomes and fairytale characters was still stripped bare and the for sale sign was prominent by the front gate. Last trip Karen stopped and asked what had happened from a woman living in a converted church. Turns out the old man who had been entertaining travellers for years with his quirky garden had passed away and the house had been put on the market. I guess the estate agent said it wouldn't sell with the fantasy garden in place, so it was packed up and sent to the tip.
Karen won the 'who'll see the first emu' bet in a very dry paddock around the turnoff to Urana. I remembered the emus we came across down in the Gulpa Forest one year and the one I nearly collided with when it came charging out of the scrub on the side of the road up near Blackall in Queensland. Jerilderee's lagoon was still dry and waterless. The further south we drove the drier it got.
The Wizard of Oz is still growing tomatoes and doing the BAS for the motorbike shop however. He's keeping the birch tree and his vegie garden alive against the prevails of the drought. We got to Deniliquin just in time to go down to the rissolle with him for tea. I had the roast of the day and a light beer and we toasted the New Year and our journey down that long bitumen road.
The drive down, 2 days, was safe and relatively uneventful. We noticed our regular markers of progress - Cunninghams Gap rainforest, the church at Warwick, the turnoff to Giraween National Park, the location of the old state border gates at Wallangarra, the old emu and kangaroo farm gate posts south of Uralla etc.They all tell little travelling stories. This time though we can add some different markers.
There was a TV cameraman vidoeing a bunch of flowers left near the site of a tragic truck/car smash that claimed the lives of four teenagers near Warwick. That reminded me of another dramatic smash scence we had driven past on the Newell Highway some years back. A truck driver had gone to sleep and driven his rig through a caravan, totally obliterating it and smashing finally into a substantial ironbark. He looked very dead.
On a brighter note, we finally stopped at Mother of Ducks Lagoon at Guyra, something I've been meaning to do for years. Wasn't much water in the lagoon (in fact it was pretty much dry) but it was good to read about how the local tribe had lived around it and used it for so long.
The Xanthorrheas in the burnt Goonoo State Forest south of Mendooran that had been so easy to see against the blackened and blasted landscape last trip were now casting seed and starting to merge into the regrowth of ironbarks and daisies and acacias.
As we walked around taking photos we disturbed a small stick exposing the white ants underneath to the marauding meat ants. They charged in, seized little golden termites in their pincers and galloped off towards their nest.There is something very affirming about seeing this regrowth happening. The hard black Xanthorrea seeds will find their place in the soil ready for the next bush fire to create the right conditions for germination. These ecosystems worked out how to adapt to fire long ago. I wonder if we humans could be smart enough to take advantage of fire like this? Aboriginal communities all over Australia have been practicing 'fire stick grazing' for millenia. We should be able to come up with a whole range of possibilities.
Further south, at Alectown, between Peak Hill and Parkes, the garden full of whirlies and gnomes and fairytale characters was still stripped bare and the for sale sign was prominent by the front gate. Last trip Karen stopped and asked what had happened from a woman living in a converted church. Turns out the old man who had been entertaining travellers for years with his quirky garden had passed away and the house had been put on the market. I guess the estate agent said it wouldn't sell with the fantasy garden in place, so it was packed up and sent to the tip.
Karen won the 'who'll see the first emu' bet in a very dry paddock around the turnoff to Urana. I remembered the emus we came across down in the Gulpa Forest one year and the one I nearly collided with when it came charging out of the scrub on the side of the road up near Blackall in Queensland. Jerilderee's lagoon was still dry and waterless. The further south we drove the drier it got.
The Wizard of Oz is still growing tomatoes and doing the BAS for the motorbike shop however. He's keeping the birch tree and his vegie garden alive against the prevails of the drought. We got to Deniliquin just in time to go down to the rissolle with him for tea. I had the roast of the day and a light beer and we toasted the New Year and our journey down that long bitumen road.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Rat Catchers Day
I got a pleasant surprise yesterday to be rung up by Deb Tribe at ABC local radio in Adelaide and asked if I would do an interview about the Pied Piper of Hamelin for Rat Catchers Day.
How could I possibly resist? The 26th of June should be celebrated. Deb had done a google search and found my version of the story and wanted me to do a three minute version and talk about whether it was true or not.
It was the sort of challenge I couldn't resist. So I googled the Pied Piper of Hamelin and found all sorts of information about it, as you invaribly do with Mr. Google. There is a 'Rattenfangerhaus' in Hamelin and on a wall on it is inscribed the very briefest version of the story I've heard and the date 1284, 26th of June.
Well the live, telephone telling went well - I think. There was just enough room before the news to answer a couple of questions and off I went. Still I wasn't terribly satisfied. I think I wanted to tell one of my rat catchers stories. I suspect we've all got them. Rats are so ubiquitous.
My favourite involves not the famous rat catcher of Hamelin but the humble rat catchers of Brisbane. You see the good councilors of Brisbane in their wisdom employed a squad of rat catchers to go about the town with their faithfull fox terrier doggy companions and dig up and kill rats. They could wander into your back yard sniff around your compost heap or under the pile of firewood and dispose of any rats they found. They don't employ them any more unfortunately but when I was a wee lad they added a little colour and mystery to suburban life. Now one day I got home from Mitchie High to discover that my mother had been thinking of me again.
When the rat catchers had come through the yard that day and found a rat nest, she asked if they could leave one of the cadavers for me to take to my biology class and dissect. Well you can imagine I was pretty pleased about that and sure enough that furry evidence of the rat catchers of Brisbane's trade did contribute to my knowledge of mamalian anatomy.
So a toast to the Rat Catchers of the world. May you take up your silver pipes and your fox terriers and go forth to give us more stories to tell.
p.s. there is supposed to be a Grimms version of it but can't find it in my 'Complete illustrated stories of the Brothers Grimm'. Anyone know what it is called?
How could I possibly resist? The 26th of June should be celebrated. Deb had done a google search and found my version of the story and wanted me to do a three minute version and talk about whether it was true or not.
It was the sort of challenge I couldn't resist. So I googled the Pied Piper of Hamelin and found all sorts of information about it, as you invaribly do with Mr. Google. There is a 'Rattenfangerhaus' in Hamelin and on a wall on it is inscribed the very briefest version of the story I've heard and the date 1284, 26th of June.
Well the live, telephone telling went well - I think. There was just enough room before the news to answer a couple of questions and off I went. Still I wasn't terribly satisfied. I think I wanted to tell one of my rat catchers stories. I suspect we've all got them. Rats are so ubiquitous.
My favourite involves not the famous rat catcher of Hamelin but the humble rat catchers of Brisbane. You see the good councilors of Brisbane in their wisdom employed a squad of rat catchers to go about the town with their faithfull fox terrier doggy companions and dig up and kill rats. They could wander into your back yard sniff around your compost heap or under the pile of firewood and dispose of any rats they found. They don't employ them any more unfortunately but when I was a wee lad they added a little colour and mystery to suburban life. Now one day I got home from Mitchie High to discover that my mother had been thinking of me again.
When the rat catchers had come through the yard that day and found a rat nest, she asked if they could leave one of the cadavers for me to take to my biology class and dissect. Well you can imagine I was pretty pleased about that and sure enough that furry evidence of the rat catchers of Brisbane's trade did contribute to my knowledge of mamalian anatomy.
So a toast to the Rat Catchers of the world. May you take up your silver pipes and your fox terriers and go forth to give us more stories to tell.
p.s. there is supposed to be a Grimms version of it but can't find it in my 'Complete illustrated stories of the Brothers Grimm'. Anyone know what it is called?
Friday, February 16, 2007
Nambour railcast on the way to Bundaberg
Karen and I were invited to lead an Introduction to Digital Storytelling for Community Cultural Development workshop in Bundaberg on Saturday 17th February. It was great fun and, very sensibly, we opted to travel by train. It was our first trip on the tilt train and, quite frankly, it was great.
What a sophisticated way to travel. We were persuaded to book business class and were glad we did - room to do some workshop preparation, plug in laptops and mobile phone chargers and have a nice meal as well. All the time a very green and damp landscape rolled by for us to enjoy.
We managed to use our mobile phones to take photos and email them to our blogs like the photo above and one we created especially for the workshop. Not that there was coverage the whole time but there was usually enough around towns to get off an email to a blog or collect messages.
The Bundaberg crew was great and we are waiting to see how they go. I'm predicting a quite amazing digital storytelling community cultural development project is going to rise like a Wundabird from Wundaberg.
What a sophisticated way to travel. We were persuaded to book business class and were glad we did - room to do some workshop preparation, plug in laptops and mobile phone chargers and have a nice meal as well. All the time a very green and damp landscape rolled by for us to enjoy.
We managed to use our mobile phones to take photos and email them to our blogs like the photo above and one we created especially for the workshop. Not that there was coverage the whole time but there was usually enough around towns to get off an email to a blog or collect messages.
The Bundaberg crew was great and we are waiting to see how they go. I'm predicting a quite amazing digital storytelling community cultural development project is going to rise like a Wundabird from Wundaberg.
Sunday, January 14, 2007
Deni Sun Festival - benign reality?
Had the pleasure on Friday and Saturday of dropping down to the park in the middle of Deniliquin and enjoying the delights of the Sun Festival.
It was very easy to be at. The weather was very pleasant. There was a good balance of sunshine and shade from heaps of trees. There was music ( jazz ), icecream, Dennis Murphy's excellent puppet show entertaining young and old, a small market, a range of different activities for kids, vintage car display and more. There was water in the billabong and birds and kids in the trees. Generally speaking, people were behaving quite well as well. It was easy to be there.
The organisers were to be congratulated. The world, at least that part of it, was a better place because of it. I wonder how we can do something similar more often in our lives?
I suspect that a goodly portion of how it worked was a spirit of cooperation. There was nothing desperate about it. When little bits of distress surfaced it was pretty easy to not take notice of them and to concentrate on the beauty of the park and creativity of the people in it.
I wonder what it would take to get that to happen more on the national and global levels?
It was very easy to be at. The weather was very pleasant. There was a good balance of sunshine and shade from heaps of trees. There was music ( jazz ), icecream, Dennis Murphy's excellent puppet show entertaining young and old, a small market, a range of different activities for kids, vintage car display and more. There was water in the billabong and birds and kids in the trees. Generally speaking, people were behaving quite well as well. It was easy to be there.
The organisers were to be congratulated. The world, at least that part of it, was a better place because of it. I wonder how we can do something similar more often in our lives?
I suspect that a goodly portion of how it worked was a spirit of cooperation. There was nothing desperate about it. When little bits of distress surfaced it was pretty easy to not take notice of them and to concentrate on the beauty of the park and creativity of the people in it.
I wonder what it would take to get that to happen more on the national and global levels?
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Southern Rest and Recuperation
Been down south in Deniliquin for a couple of weeks over Christmas and New Year and starting to feel like I've been on hols. We went for a bike ride with young Peter this afternoon. Out through the houses and into the bush. The roo tracks and forestry roads make for great fun especially when they zoom down into the dry old river beds or billabongs. The forest is so dry with summer and drought. Everything is crackly but then it's down to the river with its gently flowing irrigation water.
It's such a luxury to be riding along beside a river and not being on a concrete or bitumen bikepath - ducks, blue wrens, cormorant in the water.
Wwwwhhhh. What's that. Kangaroos bounding off. Sorry kangaroos. You could have stayed.
It's such a luxury to be riding along beside a river and not being on a concrete or bitumen bikepath - ducks, blue wrens, cormorant in the water.
Wwwwhhhh. What's that. Kangaroos bounding off. Sorry kangaroos. You could have stayed.
Monday, December 04, 2006
Enchanted Forest 'Handover'
There are moments in a storytellers life that are even more satisfying than others. At two o'clock this afternoon - Monday 4th December, 2006 - I got to enjoy one of those.
Brisbane City Council Councillor Geraldine Knapp (The Gap) was handing over CD's of the Enchanted Forest recordings, artwork and project photograps to the students of year 3H at Ashgrove Primary. The Enchanted Forest Playground project had been funded by her Council Ward Community Grant program.
I had the pleasure of telling them how much other children from all over South Queensland had been enjoying our stories and of telling them one of the new stories that had since been created at another school.
'Well it didn't take long at all. The Enchanted Forest is a bit like that. The boy found the Fairy Queen. He borrowed a silver axe. He found the disappearing tree beside the smelly bat cave and, as quick as you can say 'grotty green goblin', he'd cut a hole in the tree and rescued his sister, two butterflies, a golden beetle and a muddled up wombat.'(One of the panels created by Gavan Fenlon illustrating one of the stories and using details from children's artwork at the Enchanted Forest Playground in Dorrington Park, Ashgrove.)
It was great to see them enjoying hearing their own voices telling our stories. They were so excited. They were telling me about visiting the playground and about how some children had damaged the story playback equipment.
When I was leaving I said, "Well of course you could go on and write some more Enchanted Forest stories."
There was a silence as the possibility sank in and then one girl said, "With the same characters?"
I think she might.
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