80 Australian Geographicdevastating native vegetation. That, in turn, tears at the cultural
fabric of country – the plant communities that sustain the
Tjukurpa and species such as the Warru.
The most significant refuge for these rock-wallabies is in the
eastern Musgrave Ranges, among the boulder-studded peaks
north of Pukatja (Ernabella). As well a decade of predator
control, a captive-breeding program (see previous page) sees
pouch-young Warru raised by foster-mother yellow-footed
rock-wallabies at Monarto Zoo near Adelaide, freeing up Warru
mums in the wild to keep breeding. At the same time, the
Anangu women who help direct the Warru work have created
a contemporary Tjukurpa for the project. So it’s cutting-edge
science with spiritual clout.
This imprimatur also adds impetus to crucial fieldwork. Tasks
include an annual trapping program and patchwork burning to
limit the risk of intense wildfires wiping out the animal’s graz-
ing areas. For Warru Rangers such as Ethan Dagg, these jobs
are another welcome chance to go bush. A keen motocross rider,
he’s like a lot of young Anangu blokes who enjoy hunting and
the rough and tumble of their ancestral lands.
“I used to come out here on the bike to get away from
everything,” says Ethan. “Now with Warru work I still get to
come out here and I get paid for it.”W
ANDERING THE WARRU havens it’s not hard to see
the appeal of ranger life on the IPA. I’m at Alalka,
a gorge and waterhole hideaway about 15km north
of Pukatja. Scrambling to the ridgetop the views sweep out across
open plains to an entire archipelago of granite-flanked hills.
There’s a delicious feeling of space and freedom.
Compared with the challenges of community life – the fitful
progress of a proud traditional culture battling to make its way
in a world obsessed with money and deadlines – the simplicity
of country is like a balm.Alalka is a favourite place for Simon Wooley, a roving
dentist in the APY Lands with the Nganampa Health Council
since the late 1980s. Lanky and loose-limbed, his disarming,
easygoing manner masks a steadfast resolve.
As well as two conventional clinics, Simon has an Isuzu truck
kitted out with a dental surgery that he drives to outlying com-
munities. He’s also had to invent and adapt dentistry skills to
suit this remote setting. With about 1200 patient-visits a year,
the program has seen a marked improvement in oral health,
especially in school-age children.
I catch up with Simon during one of his visits to Pipalyatjara.
It had been another bone-shaking 350km drive from Pukatja.
The autoclave unit that sterilises his instruments didn’t survive
the journey. It’s another frustration that Simon takes in his stride.
As someone who’s lived the daily turmoil of delivering health
care to isolated communities, he remains philosophical.
With the mobile clinic trouble-shooting out of the way,
Simon and I take an afternoon ramble up Maku Gorge, a deep
ravine on the eastern face of Dulgunja Hill. It’s a site of rugged
splendour and a known Warru hideout. For Simon it brings the
immersion in terrain that recharges his connection to place and
people. In the face of dire challenges across the APY Lands,
he’s continually moved by the respect and compassion of the
people he serves.
“You see the spiritual energy with the things that really
matter to the people. You see it in the art, the Tjukurpa and
going for bush tucker,” says Simon, as we sit looking east from
a stack of dark ironstone blocks into a dusty sky. “To be exposed
to these powerful and privileged experiences – the culture, the
country – that’s what keeps me coming back. There’s a whole
world of magical things out here.” AGFIND more remarkable images of the remote APY Lands online at:
http://www.australiangeographic.com.au/issue128All smiles.
Dentist Simon
Wooley and assis-
tant Ange Caufield
in Nganampa
Health’s mobile
dental clinic at
Pipalyatjara. Here
for treatment are
Leston Hatches-
Parker (at rear),
Seona Martin,
Daelanah Cooley
and Duncan
Chamberlain.