I enter the rainbow coloured, hippy-bell jingly jangly world of fellow whitey crusties amid a smattering of brown-skinned 'indigenous' folk, festival site.
It was pretty ace, actually.
everyone was very healthy and smiley, drinking Chi tea and herbal infusions instead of the usual aussie lager.
I went to a few lectures about indigenous legal rights over the land/ fruits of the land/ medicinal plants etc. which were all very interesting and full of nice, right-on earth-huggers.
Apparently, you can now be called a 'tree-hogger', as in 'one who hugs a tree for so long that no-one else gets a look in...'
excellent.
then I went to listen to 2 dudes have an open chat about life in an aboriginal Mission town- Cherbourg, NQLD. One of the guys (Chris Sarra)was the principal of the local high school there and had achieved all sorts of amazing things over the past 6 years... I even made notes, just like at Uni.
the other fella' was Kev Carmody, a dead famous folk/ protest singer, and writer. He was badgered into singing a song by the crowd and had everyone laughing away at his tales full of past (and present) prejudice and full-on racism- amazing thing that, to be able to laugh at things so terrible.
I ate my lunch on a patch of grass in front of the dance circle. Troupes from all over the Pacific and Australasia, the US and Papua New Guinnea performed as i tucked into my home-made cheese sarnie.
Sweat was flicked from dreaded hair into the faces of the awestruck crowd and they loved it!
Then i went to the Traditional Maori Healing workshop and somehow learnt more about NZ Maoris than I have in the whole 4 months i've been living with them... I'm really keen to do a course in traditional 'miri miri' massage now... we'll see...
It's amazing what a potato can do. Await further blogs for all the, quite literally, juicy details of this healing veg!
I had to hitch back to Caboolture before dark and I was picked up by two lovely gorgeous boys from Brisbane. they were both screen-writers and were very amusing. I told them I was thinking about writing a novel and they said that considering we had already discussed hitch-hiker knifings (i was carrying my penknife, just in case...), mercenaries from Honduras, snakes in Africa, dead bodies, crusty hippy festivals, musical healing, rubbish tattoos and sweet addiction in the past half hour, I probably should.
If only as an outlet for all my travel stories...
Back to Brissy then, and i bought a train ticket even though nobody checked.
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