12:54.3S 132:31.2E

 

Kakadu National Park is virtually closed because of the height of the water, but we are here camping in splendid isolation.  We booked ourselves on a boat trip that surprisingly had people on it, with a guide called Rupert, who was brilliant.  Rupert told us he was aboriginal, and this was his back yard, and his knowledge of the wetlands and aboriginal traditions was superb.  We saw some big crocodiles at close hand, much better and scarier than meeting them in a crocodile farm. 

 

Kakadu is jointly (and proudly) owned by the local indigenous people and the government, so we expected to see a high proportion of indigenous people running it, but this wasn’t the case.  Apart from Rupert and one receptionist, the staff we met were German, South African and white Australian.  We saw some superb rock art today, beautifully explained and very accessible, then went on to the town of Jabiru for supplies, a desperate place!  Although clean and nicely maintained, it is a town of nasty soulless 1960’s architecture with no feeling of bustle or direction.  It was built to service the Ranger uranium plant just to the east, which offers tours but apparently it is just a big hole and the tours are a PR exercise.

 

So we went back to Cooinda, cheered ourselves up and cooled ourselves down with a swim.  Bit later the heavens opened, the wind howled, and we had another soaking, battening down the tent.

 

Later in the bar I chatted to Rupert again.  He told me his mum is english and his father aboriginal.  I said I had thought he looked south European or north African and he was most offended and accused me of prejudice, so that was obviously a very wrong thing to say.  He told me he was educated in a fee paying school and studied Aboriginal politics.  He said the drunks we see in towns are the older generation who are stuck in a time warp, and that the younger generation are doing much better.  He also said that all the indigenous people still possess the skills to live off the land and that many do, and even the people in the towns will be doing some fishing.  He was angry about the police being able to “come into anyone’s home and turn it over looking for alcohol” (I didnt know they could do this) and said he is passionate about educating his visitors about aboriginal culture.

 

By the end of the evening though, I was getting very mixed messages.  One the one hand , it was stuff about “you english”, the inequality of our class system and the inevitability of riots; on the other, pride in Australia’s prosperous economy with so many raw materials and foodstuffs to export.  At least I got to talk to someone; I liked Rupert.  But we are left with the impression that they are a divided nation – some proud to be involved in their wonderful national parks and artistic enterprises;  some disenchanted and embittered and steeped in social problems.  Hope we can find out more.