On undoing

community + belonging + tea + cake

Featured in

  • Published 20230502
  • ISBN: 978-1-922212-83-2
  • Extent: 264pp
  • Paperback (234 x 153mm), eBook

WE SCAMPER INTO a warm room full of returned relics and donated artwork. Outside, the temperature hovers around 12 degrees – freezing for a Meanjin girl. The sky is low and grey, a fog shrouds the silhouetted gums. Sheets of rain come and go. Local Elder David King welcomes us into the space, welcomes us warmly to Gundungurra Country. We sit together and he shares stories of his mother and his aunties and uncles. His words are gentle. He tells truth about dispossession and homecomings. He talks about forming a strategy – after the government returned the gully to the rightful custodians in the early 2000s. Of sitting with family to formulate answers to bureaucratic questions. His description of the aunties’ refusal to corral these answers into settler language stirs me. Over a period of years, they formulated four key performance headings: community + belonging + cups of tea + cake. 

A thick rising tide sweeps up from deep in my guts, tightens my chest, swamping the base of my throat, threatening to spill out in groans and tears. I desperately push it down so that I don’t steal any of David’s story-­space. In these words I feel found. In this sensation of found-­ness, I realise just how lost I am. This is a language I belong in. This is a deep truth that meets a bone-­deep lack. Here, on Gundungurra Country, I remember how it feels to belong. Not in my own home Country but in the welcome and inclusion by another.

Already a subscriber? Sign in here

If you are an educator or student wishing to access content for study purposes please contact us at griffithreview@griffith.edu.au

Share article

More from author

Glitter and guts 

All those years I had been excluded from the Anzac narrative because the Defence Act had outlawed Black enlistment. Lest we forget morphs into satire when you uncover the depths of collective amnesia surrounding Black service in World War I and Black resistance since colonisation. The more accurate catchphrase would be Best we forget. How can we be ‘one’ when we are not allowed to remember equally? Nostalgia is selective about remembrance.

More from this edition

The dancing ground

Non-fictionAfter some initial research, and only finding one historical reference to a ceremonial ground within the CBD, I confined the puzzle of Russell’s lacuna to the back of my mind. The single reference I found was in Bill Gammage’s book The Biggest Estate on Earth, where he writes: ‘A dance ground lay in or near dense forest east of Swanston Street and south of Bourke Street.’ Not a great lead because it was two blocks away from where it was depicted on Robert Russell’s survey.

Let there be light

IntroductionWhether they’re personal, cultural or religious, these are the stories that offer us ways of orienting ourselves amid the sheer chaos and confusion of being alive – particularly today, as humanity’s existential and environmental crises continue to mount. 

Autumn

PoetryTsunami-hit, shoved over at a tilt, they’ve left the bashed old kovil’s god-thronged tower standing, tallish, beyond the new one built to face, this time, becalm, the ocean’s power…

Stay up to date with the latest, news, articles and special offers from Griffith Review.