Dance Review: Bangarra Dance Theatre

I didn't have a chance to glance at the program before the theater lights went dark. No idea what to expect. I had never seen traditional Indigenous Australian dance, which is the root and inspiration of the contemporary works choreographed and performed by Bangarra Dance Theatre. What I did know was that the title of the night was Belong, and the two pieces I was about to view were titled About and ID.

About opened with a single woman dressed in white and a fine white mist creeping out from the right side of the stage. As the mist snaked and curled its way ever closer, she shrank from it and slowly, deliberately backed off the stage to the left. Then, a highly coordinated mass of dancers congregated in the mist under a backdrop that resembled a view of distant mountaintops. They began a sequence that had an uncanny resemblance to the opening scene of Ailey's Revelations. Arms were raised like flying birds above the dancers' heads and they moved as one, costumed in earth tones. The dancers made their graceful and powerful way through several scenes that seemed to represent a number of different natural places and processes-- desert, sea, and thunderstorm. A voice spoke throughout, describing experiences in the land, and drum beats filled in the silences. The woman in white reappeared throughout, sometimes joining in the dancing and other times standing back as if observing. Knowing that the theme of the night was Belong, I wondered whether the mist represented tradition and the woman in white was attempting to determine her relationship to and place within her cultural heritage.

At one point, a male dancer came out with chalk all over his body and hair. It came off of him in clouds when he moved and danced, mimicking the shape and direction of his movements. So cool! The mist was on and around him, as if he and the mist were one.

When I read the program during the intermission, I learned that the piece "explores the mood of the winds as they move across the land, sea, and sky signifying key moments in time. It reflects the strong links between communities and their natural environment." The woman in white was listed as "Storyteller," so perhaps she wasn't backing away from the mist so much as summoning and creating it. The spoken words must have been her own. Her involvement in the dancing from time to time took on new meaning-- as a guide rather than an attempt to fit in. From my limited knowledge of Indigenous beliefs, this kind of storytelling is very significant because, according to a book I'm reading, "Aboriginal Creation myths tell of the legendary totemic beings who had wandered over the continent in the Dreamtime, singing out the name of everything that crossed their path-- birds, animals, plants, rocks, waterholes--and so singing the world into existence." These paths are often called "dreaming-tracks" or "songlines," but to many Indigenous people they are "footprints of the ancestors" or "way of the law."

The second piece, ID, was less cohesive than the first. Each new sequence within the piece was a clear departure from the one before-- stage setting, costumes, dance styles, and music all changed dramatically from part to part. I had a hard time developing a clear narrative, but the piece did a great job of raising some interesting questions. For example, one scene opened with a row of five dancers at the front of the stage. Each had a large number painted on their chest-- 1, 1/2, 1/4, 1/8, 1/16. My interpretation was that they corresponded to blood percentages. Similar to the United States, you can gain access to different kinds of government assistance if you can prove that you are least 1/16th Indigenous. Thinking about it from my own perspective, I know that I'm likely at least 1/16th Welsh, but this has no meaning for me. On the other hand, my 1/4 Italian Catholic heritage has a great deal more meaning to me than my 1/2 Eastern European Jewish heritage. I know some Americans who do not know their background at all. Identity and heritage are so complicated.

Another scene in ID depicted the antics of rowdy schoolchildren on a set of bleachers. One child sat alone at the top of the bleachers, quietly keeping to herself. Finally, all of the "children" sat down, painted their faces black, and smiled broadly. The scene closed with a loud CLICK and a bright flash. No matter how different the majority of the kids acted, they would still be viewed and depicted as black.

I attended the performance with a couple of anthropologists. As you can imagine, this led to some very interesting discussions about traditional Indigenous culture and dance. They suggested I look up this video by Yothu Yindi called Treaty. I hope it gives you a sense of both some traditional dance styles and some cultural issues.

In her shoes

"You'll stay with me?"

"Always."

"Until the very end."

This is the reassurance that Harry Potter's deceased family gives him before he faces Voldemort for the last time. I saw the final movie tonight and it was a good reminder that our loved ones are always with us, even when we can't see or talk with them anymore.

Sometimes they can even seem to reappear quite tangibly. I don't know what it was, but the facilitator of a meeting I attended on Friday seemed to be channeling my grandmother in such a clear way that it actually made me choke up. Maybe it was a combination of things: the familiar way he looked over his glasses, his witty sense of humor, the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed. Or maybe his confident attitude and impeccable word choice.

My grandmother died a few years ago when I was a freshman in college. I often wonder what kinds of conversations we might have had if she was still alive, now that I'm really developing as an activist and leader.

As we had the same shoe size, I inherited some very nice Italian leather shoes after her death. They give me a great deal of confidence. I look at the worn soles and am reminded of how she helped to pave the way for me by pounding the halls of the Arkansas state capitol and the streets of Little Rock for decades seeking justice and understanding. She became a civil rights lawyer, served as Assistant Attorney General for several years, and was active on the Panel of American Women. She was a campaign manager and active Arkansas Democrat, raised an incredible family, was a supporter of the humanities and of science, and could often be found blissfully dancing Second Line in her adopted Louisiana city. She cared deeply for people and the environment.

Obviously, I had to bring a pair of her shoes with me to Australia. Their power lies in the daily reminder that she is with me. Always. Until the very end.

Australia will be there

"What side was Arkansas on?" is a question I have been asked several times about the American Civil War. Australians have a vague sense when I mention the South that the war was a big deal for us. I complicate their notions by explaining about Arkansas's sparse population and split loyalties at the time.

I think many would be surprised about the frequency with which war is discussed here in Australia. People are very saddened by the 30 soldiers they've lost in Afghanistan, which might not sound like much compared to the thousands of American soldiers who have died, but is devastating and dramatic for a historically peaceful country of only 22 million. They are especially bewildered because it's difficult to understand what they're even fighting for.

Australia has a history of coming to the aid of other countries in wartime. During World War I, Australia fought beside Great Britain as a member of the Commonwealth, though they had gained their independence in 1901. Anzac Day, held on April 15th, commemorates the 1915 massacre of Australian and New Zealander troops that occurred on the beaches of Gallipoli, Turkey. At the moment I'm reading the Australian classic novel, A Fortunate Life, in which the author shares a good deal of his horrific experiences fighting at Gallipoli.

Suddenly all hell broke loose; heavy shelling and shrapnel fire commenced. The ships that were protecting our troops returned fire. Bullets were thumping into us in the rowing-boat. Men were being hit and killed all around me... the sight of the bodies on the beach was shocking. It worried me for days that I couldn't stop to help the men calling out.

Later, he describes leaving the battle field:

It was the nineteenth day of August 1915. I had been on Gallipoli only six days short of four months and I want to say now that they were the worst four months of my whole life. I had seen many men die horribly, and had killed many myself, and lived in fear most of the time. And it is terrible to think that it was all for nothing.

World War I touched almost every Australian family directly due to the heavy losses incurred. The small country sacrificed in extraordinary ways. In addition, as one of my colleagues described, the world wars were a defining line for Australia by catapulting it from relative obscurity and isolation into the international scene. Following the second world war, access to capital and consumer goods grew, sparking a major spate of development that has scarcely slowed over the past 60 years.

I interviewed an indigenous elder in St George who described the changes in the land over the century. Before the war, western Queensland was primarily made up of sheep stations. There were no irrigation schemes and the rivers ran clear and unimpeded. Everything changed in the 1960s. Weirs, dams, and irrigation channels were developed on the major rivers, large machinery was suddenly available, the stations were divided into soldier settlement plots, and the scrubby land was plowed up to make way for wheat and cotton. My interviewee and his brother, the only Aboriginal pilot to fly in World War II (he flew a Kittyhawk Fighter with "Black Magic" painted on the nose), were shearers before the war but turned to other industries in the changing landscape.

After the wars, many towns created meeting places for the Returned & Services League that are still community centers today. We had a drink and dinner one night this week at the St George RSL and I noticed these clubs in some of the other towns we went through. Australia has not been substantially involved in many other conflicts since the world wars. Still, there is a sense of concern about war in general. Perhaps some fear comes from its geographic relationship to growing Asian power. After all, the Japanese did attack the northern part of the mainland during World War II, and several submarines found their way to Sydney harbor.

I met an antique maps seller at a weekday market in Brisbane who told me about his amateur interest in the psychology of war. He studies war in the hope of coming to some understanding of how living, breathing men and women can be sent to their deaths as a means to an end. I wonder about that as well. How are these actions justified in the hearts of the men and women in command?

Concerning hobbits

After the disappointing lack of small people with hairy feet in the Balonne Shire, the next thing you are likely to notice is, well, not much at all. It takes a bit of a closer look to reveal the charms and quirks of this area to the untrained eye. Much more has come clear after my second trip to St George.

Last week in Brisbane, one of my interviewees told me to look out for a lady in the DERM St George office who has a soft spot for wombats. I had been in the office on a previous visit, but now I started to notice wombat paraphernalia everywhere. Posters, fliers, pictures, and news articles were pasted to the walls. A life-sized wombat piggy bank guarded the door. I was able to watch a short video about the endangered Northern Hairy-Nosed Wombat, of which scientists have been attempting to establish in new colonies around Queensland. According to the video, "nowhere has anyone ever moved such a large burrowing animal." They are typically very sensitive animals that suffer in new situations, but the relocated colony is apparently thriving. The best part about pursuing this wombat craze was that I scored a "Save the Northern Hairy-Nosed Wombat" water bottle.

The ladies restroom at the office also has its own special style. Someone has set up little displays on hot pink washcloths involving scented candles, soaps, lotions, fake flowers, and other girly stuff. I'm going to miss this place!

I have begun to understand just how important cotton is to the communities along the Condamine/Balonne River. Wheat, sorghum, chickpeas, and other dryland crops are farmed to some extent (also beef and wool), but cotton is the real economic boon for the area. This year was a record harvest and the holding lots in front of the St George cotton gin are still stuffed with bales waiting for processing. Many farms have had bales sitting in the paddock for a month now waiting for space to open up at the gin.

The bales are primarily these long blocks about the size of a semi truck trailer. Making them involves several people working to stuff cotton into a modular pressing machine and then tarping the top to protect the bale from weather. Some farms are moving to machinery that creates round bales and only requires one person to operate.

There are not many alternatives to farming to support these remote western Queensland communities. Because of limited water availability, the state has already capped use, meaning that any growth in productive capacity will have to come from on-farm efficiency measures since no new water is available for development. The federal government will buy water back from farmers that is needed under the Murray-Darling Basin Plan to return flows to the environment, but although these willing sellers will be compensated, the cutbacks may have negative impacts on communities that rely on the agricultural sector. If a community loses too much population or productive agricultural capacity, it may also lose needed services such as doctors, schools, development investment, etc. Young people will leave to seek opportunities elsewhere. People who might want to leave to seek opportunities elsewhere aren't able to sell their home or property, creating a trap. Debt builds. Ultimately, the community becomes dependent on government assistance. This decline has already been seen in some towns due to the prolonged drought Queensland suffered until late last year. With the rains, some communities have bounced back, but at a much lower operational capacity and with unknown potential for true sustainability.

Seeing the rivers full of water, bird life, and fish makes it difficult to imagine that in the very recent past the Balonne was nothing more than a trickle in a dry riverbed. I contemplated the awesome resilience of the environment from my hammock after a long day of interviews...

Earn your Junior Ranger badge!

On an excursion this weekend to North Stradbroke Island (AKA "Straddie"), we stumbled upon a sandy area near a swamp. It was smooth and unbroken except for two parallel prints, each indentation long and thin, at regular intervals. We were fascinated when we realized they were kangaroo tracks! Try your hand at identifying other tracks we came upon during our travels.

Reply via a comment on this post by Friday, July 15th at midnight Toowoomba time.

All of the Dreamers

Powderfinger is an Australian band that has been recommended to me several times, but I had forgotten to look them up until one of their songs came up on my iPod. One of my work mates gave me the 2008, 2009, and 2010 Triple J 100 (yearly Aussie top 100 song list put out by the alt radio station Triple J), which had some Powderfinger. The song, All of the Dreamers, stood out to me because the lyrics matched what I had been considering at the moment-- how to act in the world in a way that creates true equality and sustainability.

"So you speak out loud like a libertine/But you’re just another cog in the great machine/But in a cold bitter irony/You’re a hero of the community. When you come down to the barrio/You get a feel of the people’s scenario/It’s a last opportunity/To steal a march on the enemy."

Listen to the song here. The city in the music video is Brisbane. And the lyrics:

From your tower of ivory
I hear you rattle your jewellery
But in a hard bitten irony
You’re a pillar of the community

When you come down to the barrio
Get a feel for the people’s scenario
It’s a Grande opportunity
To steal a march on the enemy

Now all of the dreamers
Jumpin at shadows in the dark
Follow the leaders
Don’t follow the leaders into the dark

Down in the night it gets so cold
Under the shadow that you’ve thrown
The disciples stand at dawn
Wait for the world to be reformed

I never promised you the world
I just followed it round as it untwirls
So I string you up and along
With all of the dreamers...

So you speak out loud like a libertine
But you’re just another cog in the great machine
But in a cold bitter irony
You’re a hero of the community

When you come down to the barrio
You get a feel of the people’s scenario
It’s a last opportunity
To steal a march on the enemy

Now all of the dreamers
Jumpin at shadows in the dark
Follow the leaders
Don’t follow the leaders into the dark

Down in the night it gets so cold
Under the shadow that you’ve thrown
The disciples stand at dawn
Wait for the world to be reformed

I never promised you the world
I just followed it round as it untwirls
So I string you up and along
And along with all of the dreamers...
So I string you up and along
With all of the dreamers...

All of the dreamers
All of the dreamers

Water world

This morning I took the ferry to work with my Brisbane host mom, Diana. She pointed out the changing landscape on our way downriver-- the University of Queensland, a huge rowing complex, industrial infrastructure, swanky new loft apartment highrises, parks, the performing arts center, swaths of mangrove forest, and of course the bridges. I tried to imagine a similarly redeveloped Little Rock as our speedy, stealthy ferry boat pulled up to North Quay (pronounced "key" here). From what I've gleaned, Brisbane has done a lot in the past 20 years to achieve the wildly successful utilization of its riverfront real estate. The result is a vibrant biker and pedestrian friendly city core encompassing both sides of the river, which are artfully knitted together with the many bridges I've discussed in recent posts.

What if you could hop on a high-speed ferry in Maumelle and be at work downtown in 10 minutes? A Big Dam Bridge stop could take ADEQ staff from their office to the Arkansas State Capitol complex in under 5 minutes. Realistically, though, I don't think we have the population or the right kind of riverside development to support such a scheme. And there's no way I would trade in the excellent string of parks that make the Arkansas River such a pleasant place to be in Little Rock. I'm holding out for high speed hoverbusses to make movement easier around our lovely city.

Many of you know that water has a very special place in my life for multiple reasons. Growing up, I spent a good deal of my non-school waking hours in the pool training as a competitive swimmer. My namesake is a seaside National Park where the waves crash against the craggy coastline in awe-inspiring demonstrations of power. My family spends a good deal of time on the Buffalo River, possibly the coolest river in the US.

My water obsession followed me to college. I joined the crew team for a semester, then moved on to water polo. My study abroad mates in Thailand dubbed me "dugong" because of my playful water-based antics. After I moved back to Little Rock I joined the Master's group of my old swim team. Because I plan to continue with that in September, I have had the best of intentions for swimming to stay in shape while in Australia. There are pools everywhere and most charge only a few dollars per visit. Haven't made it there yet. Maybe it's the intimidation factor-- after all, Australia always gives the US a run for its money in Olympic swimming events.

I recently learned that freestyle was (first?) developed as a competitive swimming style in Australia. Originally called the "Australian crawl," it was actually stolen from the Solomon Islanders. A young boy sent by his Australian father (Islander mother) to school in Sydney won many a race using the technique commonly employed by people from his island. This style, combined with a similar front crawl learned by John Trugden from Native Americans, is the freestyle stroke we learn across the world today.