Being prey – by Val Plumwood
In the early wet season, Kakadu’s paperbark wetlands are especially stunning, as the water lilies weave white, pink, and blue patterns of dreamlike beauty over the shining thunderclouds reflected in their still waters. Yesterday, the water lilies and the wonderful bird life had enticed me into a joyous afternoon’s idyll as I ventured onto the East Alligator Lagoon for the first time in a canoe lent by the park service.
“You can play about on the backwaters,” the ranger had said, “but don’t go onto the main river channel. The current’s too swift, and if you get into trouble, there are the crocodiles. Lots of them along the river!”
I followed his advice and glutted myself on the magical beauty and bird life of the lily lagoons, untroubled by crocodiles. Today, I wanted to repeat that experience despite the drizzle beginning to fall as I neared the canoe launch site. I set off on a day trip in search of an Aboriginal rock art site across the lagoon and up a side channel. The drizzle turned to a warm rain within a few hours, and the magic was lost. The birds were invisible, the water lilies were sparser, and the lagoon seemed even a little menacing. I noticed now how low the 14-foot canoe sat in the water, just a few inches of fiberglass between me and the great saurians, close relatives of the ancient dinosaurs. Not long ago, saltwater crocodiles were considered endangered, as virtually all mature animals in Australia’s north were shot by commercial hunters. But after a decade and more of protection, they are now the most plentiful of the large animals of Kakadu National Park. I was actively involved in preserving such places, and for me, the crocodile was a symbol of the power and integrity of this place and the incredible richness of its aquatic habitats.
After hours of searching the maze of shallow channels in the swamp, I had not found the clear channel leading to the rock art site, as shown on the ranger’s sketch map. When I pulled my canoe over in driving rain to a rock outcrop for a hasty, sodden lunch, I experienced the unfamiliar sensation of being watched…
Read the rest of Val’s account here (word doc 45kb)
Val’s 2008 obit article here (word doc 27kb)
She was the “upstairs” colonial making much of her Aboriginal “learnings”. BTW she was warned by the local mob not to do it. Always the interpreter to the loss of the true voice.
What a fraud!
most Australians are indifferent or uninformed about indigenous life and take no thought about the place of humans in nature, and are comfortable with that too. Perhaps that even looks like gentrified goodwill or a neutral non-engagement – many do not meet aboriginal people in daily life, or experience the seasons in a bodily way.
Recent floods seems so shocking not least because we have lost that daily contact with nature, call it respect-acknowledgement at a cellular level.
Val didn’t much seem to listen to what others told her to do – specially those who want to mediate her reality. She wasn’t indifferent, and she didn’t ‘tolerate’ – instead tried to make sense of the world on her terms. Often enough at her personal cost too.
FWIW that person used her crass stupidity to carve a career in intellectual fraud. Are you speaking for the “other” aka “in the fashion of” Zohl de Ishtar?
for you Val was crass and stupid, and a fraud who carved a career out of that too.
I guess we will differ on the value of her contributions
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omg crazzzyy story… i just cant bekieve and she loveddd the gators which is sooo touching