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Read an extract from Singing Bones: Ancestral Creativity and Collaboration

Manikay are the ancestral songs of Arnhem Land, passed down over generations and containing vital cultural knowledge. In Singing Bones, Samuel Curkpatrick speaks with manikay singers from Ngukurr in southeastern Arnhem Land, who describe the social, ceremonial and linguistic significance of their songs and discuss their critically acclaimed collaboration with jazz musicians from the Australian Art Orchestra (AAO), Crossing Roper Bar.

Described by the AAO as an , Crossing Roper Bar premiered at the Garma Music Festival in 2006 and has toured internationally. It features a contemporary interpretation of 鈥榃ild Blackfella鈥�, a song cycle that follows the ancestor鈥檚 journey through his country. In Singing Bones, Curkpatrick charts the development of this project and argues that it is at once an exciting example of creative intercultural collaboration, and a continuation of the manikay tradition.

You can read an extract from Sing Bones below.

The book is out now in print and electronic editions. It is the latest release in our Indigenous Music of Australia series.

An extract from Singing Bones by Samuel Curkpatrick

艎ilipidji lies in the far northern reaches of the Australian continent, about two days鈥� drive from the nearest capital city, Darwin. It is a hot, inland place some thirty-five kilometres west of the coast at Blue Mud Bay in the Gulf of Carpentaria. During the wet season each year, 艎ilipidji is encircled by floodwaters. These drain away in the dry season, leaving behind dusty riverbanks and deep, dark waterholes. The low-lying hills to the south are covered by scattered stone outcrops, and the landscape is covered sparsely in hardy eucalyptus and ironbark trees. 艎ilipidji is famous for its historic production of greasy, pink-streaked 艐ambi (stone spear heads) and knives at numerous open-ground quarries. A valuable commodity, 艐ambi were lethal in hunting and combat, and traded across great distances.
听听听听 Until the fragmented movements of exodus from life on ancestral estates in the mid-1900s, Yol艐u had lived on their traditional homelands for countless generations. Today, W盲gilak reside in towns like Ngukurr, hundreds of kilometres away. While the opportunity to get 鈥渂ack to country鈥� is often thwarted by limited access to reliable transport, the possibility never fails to light up excited eyes. When a trip does eventuate every year or so, no one can help but sing all the way home. The gumurr (chest) of manikay鈥攖he main body of a song during which sacred names of 艎ilipidji are intoned (see Chapter Five)鈥攑ulls swelling hearts back into the embrace of country.
听听听听 We arrive at 艎ilipidji after two days鈥� travel via Numbulwar, where, along the way, more family were gathered into the convoy. The old corrugated-iron huts need sweeping, the grass burning to get rid of snakes. Not far from where we are camping is a spring, bubbling through thick foliage and running into still pools. These pools are soft underfoot with thick black silt, making it hard to see any little, shy 鈥渟nappy ones鈥濃�攆reshwater crocodiles. The spring is an ever-flowing source of life, created when the ancestral Dja艐鈥檏awu Sisters plunged their sacred digging stick into the ground. A few hundred metres away, this water joins Wunungirrna, the Walker River.
听听听听 We go fishing in one of the freshwater pools that overflow in the wet season. It is full of 艐补迟产补苍鈥� (rifle fish) and huge madhpuna (black bream). Stomachs rumble. We are not strangers: the land recognises the presence of the 飞盲艐补-飞补t补艐耻 (country owners), smelling our scent and giving up an abundance of natural resources for our sustenance and pleasure. Plenty to catch.
听听听听 An old rope swing extends across the deepest part of the stream, a playful remnant of the abandoned outstation. Not much infrastructure remains here: a few rotting blankets, some fishing reels and spears, colourfully painted but extremely dusty huts, a defunct solar panel, and one large water tank.
听听听听 What remains at 艎ilipidji is much more permanent and tangible than a few dilapidated buildings. When we entered W盲gilak country, just west of the main track to Gove, we stopped to smoke some 尘补苍测鈥檛箩补谤谤 (leaves) for the spirit of a recently deceased relative, announcing our presence to the land.
After eating some freshly stewed 艐补苍补辫补谤谤耻 (buffalo), we roll out sleeping mats and mosquito nets on a huge tarpaulin鈥攖he underside is still covered in buffalo blood鈥攁nd the sun sets. Benjamin Miyala Wilfred, Andy Lukaman Peters and David Yipininy Wilfred prepare to sing the manikay that narrates the foundation of this homeland.
听听听听 David Wilfred, a Ritharr艐u man related directly to the W盲gilak by marriage, is 诲箩耻艐驳补测颈 (manager) for the singers. The 诲箩耻艐驳补测颈 plays yidaki (didjeridu) for his 艐盲ndipulu (mother鈥檚 group; opposite moiety), ensuring that the performance follows the correct narrative sequence. Benjamin Wilfred and Andy Peters are reciprocally obliged to play yidaki for Ritharr艐u songs.
David addresses the ancestral beings in the Ritharr艐u/ W盲gilak language, naming everyone who is present and reflecting pensively on the state of contemporary ceremonial practice: 鈥淭here is no elder in the W盲gilak clan for the 产耻艐驳耻濒 摆肠别谤别尘辞苍测闭.鈥�
听听听听 Benjamin continues:
We are going to start [singing] from Butjulubayi [north of 艎ilipidji]. Yidaki player is David, and his land, where he came from, is Bundulum. Where I鈥檓 standing now is my home, 艎ilipidji. Tomorrow we are leaving, walking to Warparni.4 My song is W盲gilak. We will start with [the songs] 鈥淵ol艐u Man鈥� [鈥淒juwalpada鈥漖, 鈥淕ara鈥� [Spear], 鈥淢alka鈥� [String bag], 鈥淲adawada鈥� [Wire spear].
听听听听 Long-time ago our grandfather鈥檚 father, grandfather鈥檚 mother, they used to walk everywhere, travel around with the Yol艐u song, 鈥淒juwalpada鈥�. This song we are going to start from is where we are now, 艎ilipidji. 艎ilipidji, L盲rra [stone spear country]. This is my home, me, Miyala. All my grandfathers and my in-laws, they are all gone now. All our grandfathers鈥攆athers鈥� fathers鈥攁ll passed away. We are the only people that know the culture and the secret singing. Only us mob now. Andy [Peters] is the only elder in the W盲gilak clan.
听听听听 This is me talking, Miyala. I鈥檓 doing this recording for all my children to listen and learn, and move along with our culture 鈥� I鈥檓 the only person that knows the traditional songs. All the rest are gone. This is for you mob; you mob got to listen properly, learn and carry on. Only then can I stop.
The bilma (clapsticks) break the dark, humid air, dense with insect noise. The regular and percussive strikes mimic Djuwalpada鈥檚 footsteps as he begins to walk.
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