We went out bush with the local aboriginal women. Beautiful colours. In the car, the toyota, back full of women going to dig for roots. Musical language, blended with the earth. Sound of the wind and wild camels meandering. ‘yu-wah’.

Driving around delivering meals to the oldies in the community with Mr Mervin and Elsie. Old matresses and camp fires out front of the cement block houses. Kangaroo bones of meat in the fire. They spend their time outside, the houses are not what they know or need. If someone dies in one of these block houses, the whole family (meaning the whole extended family-everyone is an auntie or an uncle) de-camps and sets up a tent a bit away. It is impossible to live in the same place someone has passed away.

Learning it’s better to be watchful. No questions needed. They watch with laughing eyes. Only the sound of digging. Thuds into dirt. Women’s voices chattering and the wind.

Bent over at the kitchen bench with Elsie, chopping cabbage. ‘Wirruna’. It means lovely one. She grins and points to the cabbages. Wirruna. Lovely one. Lovely cabbage.