During her teaching degree, Explorer Feather lived and taught in one of the most remote places in Australia – Tiwi Islands, NT.

 

I’d always been fascinated by the Tiwi Islands. I’m not sure when or how the seed was planted, but it was a place that I knew I had to visit. There were five other places on this list, all islands, all collected from little snippets of passing conversations, and until I’d been to all of them, I knew I’d always wonder, which wouldn’t be enough.

 

Studying Teaching

I’d started studying a teaching degree at Charles Darwin University, which has its main campus in Darwin, while I was living in Byron Bay. I could complete it online, but knew that the subjects would pique my interest, and perhaps open up opportunities to explore First Nations cultures that I find so fascinating and deep.

These are cultures that are hard to understand or gain a deeper knowledge of unless you’re really immersed within them. And that was my plan – to make opportunities for myself to explore and become immersed. Something I thought could be made possible by studying teaching.

Eventually, the time came to complete my third placement, and there was an option to do it in a First Nations community. My first preference was Milakapiti, one of the Tiwi Islands.

 

A map of the Tiwi Islands – Bathurst Island on the left and Milakapiti/Melville Island on the right

The continuation of one of the oldest cultures in the world is fascinating and deeply spiritual. I yearned for a deeper connection and understanding of them, and now the opportunity had arrived.

It was going to be a big journey from the Gold Coast to Darwin and then on to the Tiwi Islands. I was told who my mentor teacher would be, and to pre-order my food for the barge that comes once a week from Darwin. It already seemed like an adventure before I’d even left, and I struggled to think about what I’d need to eat in a few weeks’ time.

I couldn’t figure out how to pre-order my food, so on arrival in Darwin, I had one hour to hit the shops, stock up on as much food as possible, shove it all in my suitcase, and head to the Tiwi Islands. This was my first mistake of island life, as the plane I took to Milakapati was so tiny, and each passenger was given only a certain amount of weight, which, of course, meant I was overweight, and I had to pay a huge, unexpected fee.

Landing on the Island

I was finally heading into the islands, albeit blindly, as this was my first experience of a remote Indigenous community. The teachers met me at the tiny airport and showed me to the spare guest house. It was unbearably hot, and the island was surrounded by water that, no matter the temptation, was not to be swum in, for this was croc territory.

 

 

School started, and the days were long and intense. It was such a stark experience going from the Steiner school in Mullumbimby to the confronting reality of community life, and it took me a while to get used to it.

Most kids didn’t have shoes and weren’t well presented like the kids I’m used to teaching; some came to school with nits and sores. But I loved the freedom the children experienced. They were actually allowed to embrace their childhood, something so restricted within the school systems these days. I also didn’t hear from any of their parents, a rarity for a school teacher!

Remote living with little access to facilities is difficult, but community is everything to these people. It made me realise the incredible privilege of my school back home, and really reaffirmed the stark differences between First Nations communities and the rest of Australia. This school experience was as far from my everyday job as I could get.

I was glad to have ended up in Milakapati, as this is the island that tourists don’t really visit. While Bathurst, the neighbouring island, is where people come from Darwin to visit the art centre and watch the famous Tiwi footy grand final.

 

 

The days were hot and had a certain biting intensity that I’d not experienced before. I’d always had disdain for air conditioners, but on the island, they became my best friend. Every day after school, I’d walk the two minutes back to my house and sit under the air con. To me, those moments felt like dunking in a deep, cool pool.

The Art Centre

After I’d decompressed from the intensity of the day, I’d walk to the arts centre and spend my afternoons there. It was here that I created some really beautiful relationships with the locals.

I was super keen to buy some artwork, a representation of my time on the island, but I wanted it to be personal, so I spent time with some of the local artists. One of them, Pedro Wonaeamirri, is a very well-known artist and elder in the community, whose various artworks I still see in galleries throughout Australia and who I remember as a humble and sincere man. I had the honour of befriending him during my time in Milakapti. I left with three new artworks of varying Dreamtime stories that still hang on my wall today.

One of the afternoons I was there, Pedro invited me to a pukumani ceremony. He explained that it’s a traditional Indigenous ceremony that only the people from the Tiwi Islands do a year after they’ve lost a loved one. A segment of these touching, poignant ceremonies feature in the film Baraka.

I felt beyond honoured that I’d been invited, and a few days later, I attended this sacred ritual. I saw the dedication to this ceremony by the locals as well as the grief that was caused by the passing of a tribe member. When the dance was over, Pedro came up to me and personally thanked me for being there – I was very taken aback. It’d been an honour to be invited, and here he was thanking me and crying, telling me how special it was to have me there. This was my experience with the Tiwi people – kind, caring, and so very humble.

The Storm

One weekend, a local family invited me out for a boat ride to go fishing. We left around 9am with about ten children and just as many adults – it was nothing short of chaos.

The small dinghy did two return trips, dropping us off at an island about 20 minutes offshore, amongst the deep, dark, dank mangroves.

 

 

This was our first stop to collect mud mussels – a new experience for me and an extremely tasty one. We waded through the muck, almost waist deep, feeling with our feet and hands for giant mussel shells.

We then went on to do some line fishing, and the fish were added straight onto a small fire that’d been lit on the beach. During this time, the children kept asking me for water, as it seemed no one else had brought any. So sip by sip, I gave my water away. Eventually, we realised the boat hadn’t come back, so we were somewhat stranded.

I couldn’t fully understand what was being said, but there were lots of shouts down the phone line between various people. Something had happened to the boat, and it couldn’t make it back to pick us up. Was I worried? Slightly, mainly because my water was running out, and I could see a massive, dark storm brewing.

 

 

After some time, tempers were heightened, and it was soon late afternoon. We’d been out all day, and the children were starting to get over it. Lucky for us, a flash, new boat drove past – a charter boat from a costly local fishing expedition, and we waved them down. They stopped for us, but said they couldn’t take everyone back. I opted to stay on the beach, ensuring the children could go home.

After the children left, I was alone with four other women about my age on the beach. Then the storm came in. It was relentless, dark thundering clouds and lightning. We were stranded on the beach, and in my panic, I couldn’t remember whether you should stand away or close to a tree when there’s lightning. We ended up half attempting to bury ourselves in sand. During the day, I’d spent a large portion of time collecting all the rubbish that’d washed up. Alas, as the storm rolled in, all my attempts scattered back across the shore.

The storm left me drenched from head to toe without any way to get dry. After about an hour, the original small tinny returned, explaining they’d had some engine troubles and couldn’t get back to us – and then the storm had come, so they didn’t want to venture out. We returned safely, though very exhausted, cold, wet, hungry, and thirsty after a 12-hour odyssey at sea. The teachers I work with were shocked that I’d gone on such an expedition.

 

 

The Tiwi Islands certainly exceeded my expectations. Both enjoyable, yet confronting, challenging, fun, and inspiring. I felt so very blessed that I’d been given the opportunity to explore these islands and spend some time learning from the locals. The photos I took and the artworks I purchased are a constant reminder of the stories woven in and the magic and connection to nature that’s represented so strongly in First Nations cultures.

Read More First Nations Stories

At We Are Explorers we take great pride in presenting content that is fact checked, well-researched, and based on both real world experience and reliable sources. As a B-Corp we uphold high ethical standards and strive to create content that is inclusive, with an an increased focus on underserved communities, Indigenous Australians, and threats to our environment. You can read all about it in our Editorial Standards.